


To Step Through the Image of Herself

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison-centric, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, POV Third Person, Romance, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lately, everyone's been treating Allison as if she's made of glass. Well, everyone except Derek, of course, but even he's been keeping an eye on her. She really should be more bothered by that . . . shouldn't she? Opens in the beginning of 3B but mostly occurs in AU S4 and afterward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Humans and Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> This is really a one-shot, and it's completely written. I'm just posting it in (what I think will turn out to be) 5 chapters to give myself time to fix anything particularly grievous that I've overlooked.
> 
> Thanks to [rashaka](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rashaka/profile) for the prompt and to [melooza](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Melooza/works) for all the encouragement, without which I never would have finished. This is unbeta'd, so please forgive my errors. I've obviously deviated from canon quite a bit here, but that's entirely intentional.
> 
> I don't own Teen Wolf. If I did, I'd bother to follow a timeline.

Back before she’d come to Beacon Hills, books and TV had constituted the larger part of Allison’s friendships, and she’d read a lot. In one book, a modern author’s retelling of a fairy tale, roses were magic plants, difficult for all but the most powerful sorcerers to grow.

Poking glumly at the dirt in her window box, brought inside to guard from winter’s chill, she thought that maybe roses’ delicacy was a fact, rather than fiction.

“Most people don’t buy rose seeds in the dead of winter,” the nursery owner had mentioned, hesitant in the face of a potential sale in the slow season, but bound by morals to make a faint point.

Allison knew that, since she also knew how to use Google just as well as anyone else, but it was coming up on her mother’s birthday and she and her dad had been avoiding each other’s eyes for a week now and she needed to bring something, anything, to life. The difficulty level made it more meaningful. So she smiled and said, “I’ll take two pots, too, thanks,” and brought them home.

Apparently, she couldn’t take care of roses. Maybe she should have bought the Sunshine Mix soil.

“Do you really think that now’s the time to be playing mud pies?” Lydia asked from the doorway. “Scott texted thirty minutes ago.”

Allison gave her a look in return for the sharp tone, but she didn’t bother protesting. Lydia only got this snappish when she was worried, and honestly, she had good reason to be, considering the bizarre things that had been happening with Scott, Stiles, and Allison. “Let’s go.” She checked to make sure her daggers were at her sides and then followed her friend out the door.

The chase turned out to be a bust, as it had every other time, and when Stiles tried to joke about wolf noses versus coyotes’, nobody even cracked a courtesy smile. Allison kept her face turned outward, away from the rest, hating the dark and the moonlight that kept her at a disadvantage.

 _I don’t have to kill Kate_ , she told herself. _She’s already dead._

A chill wind kicked up, and she shivered. If it didn’t hamper her movements so much, she would have brought her down jacket instead of wearing leather. Northern California winters weren’t the cakewalk her out-of-state Facebook friends assumed.

A single white flake floated down from the black sky, coming to rest against her sleeve. The coat was so cold the snowflake stayed intact. More snow fell to the ground, faster and thicker than she had ever seen in Beacon Hills. It even looked like it was sticking.

“Whoa.” She heard the wonder in her voice. It had been awhile since her last snowfall. “Look, you guys, it’s—”

A shadow flitting through the trees caught her eye, and she was off, chasing after it even though she knew she probably shouldn’t, especially when she didn’t spare the time to tell the others where she was going. She was a _hunter,_ for God’s sake; she didn’t have to get backup for every little thing. The blood of generations of predators sang through her veins. She could take care of herself.

Kate leaped down from the branches above her and screamed in wordless rage. Allison, too frightened to make a sound, whipped out her daggers and sprang.

“ _Allison_.”

She was lying on top of a warm body, wrists held in an iron grip. A blink, and she realized who had stopped her. Derek Hale.

With a gasp, she tried to pull free and failed. “Derek, let me go.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re trying to kill me!” He glared up at her and _God_. Why did he have to be so damned stubborn?

“I thought you were Kate.” Shit. She hadn’t meant to whisper the explanation, but there it was.

A pause, and he let her go. Robbed of his support, she almost fell to stab his shoulders before she jerked back, knees straddling his waist, and then stood. They busied themselves with brushing dead leaves from their clothes and avoiding each other’s eyes.

She didn’t want to say it loudly enough for him to respond, but she had to reassure herself. “I’m not like her.”

The werewolf ears caught it immediately, of course. “I don’t care.”

She wanted to spit at him, or say _I don’t care that you don’t care_ , but she was almost eighteen now and things like that were supposed to be beneath her. Instead, she slipped the daggers into their sheaths and stalked back to where the others were lagging behind on her tail.

 

The seeds were just dormant for longer than Allison had expected. By the time Scott heard that Derek was in Mexico, tiny shoots had appeared through the damp soil. They grew, as the terror drew near, and the McCall pack turned itself inside out trying to protect themselves from the malevolence that surrounded their lives. Every time she saw the green leaves, Allison reminded herself, _I’m keeping these alive. Whatever else happens, my roses will bloom_.

“Oh,” Lydia said blankly, when she saw the blossoms. “I thought you decided on the America rose.”

“No, the New Dawn looked prettier on the package.” And the name had appealed more, but that bit of whimsy was too silly to admit.

“Well, New Dawns are climbing roses. Unless you want them piercing tiny holes into your walls, you’re going to need to give them something to climb, probably outside.” Taking a hesitant step closer to touch one petal, she whispered, “They’re growing too fast.”

Allison had certainly never attributed the roses’ rapid blooming to her own skills as a gardener, but Lydia’s worried tone made her feel that it wasn’t exactly _good_ luck either. “Is that bad?”

When Lydia turned to face her again, her smile was as bright as ever. “Don’t be silly. Roses are ridiculously difficult to get to strike. Never look a gift bloom in the bud, or something like that.”

But Allison didn’t miss how her best friend’s hand fisted in the pleats of her skirt until the knuckles whitened with strain. That night, she dreamed of cold engulfing her until her vocal cords froze with it, and when she awoke she couldn’t break free of the nightmare, still held immobile with an ice pit where her stomach should have been.

Derek walked into her room the following afternoon as she was watering the plants and barked out an order that he’d no doubt gotten from Scott. She shrugged and kept pouring until he paced in front of her and demanded, “Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you. I just don’t feel like answering.” Every time she had to make eye contact with Derek, she still wanted to stab him in a non-vital area. Forgiveness wasn’t her strong suit. The only thing that stopped her was knowing his inevitable retort: _We’re supposed to be on the same side._ Maybe he was right, but telling herself that didn’t help. Neither did her father’s growing camaraderie with Derek. Where had that come from? Sure, Derek had saved Chris from that bomb, but that would justify some respect, not the genuine happiness Chris displayed when he saw Derek these days.

“Fine. Next time answer your phone and I won’t have to go out of my way to pass on Scott’s messages.” He turned to go, but stopped, arrested.

“Are we playing statues?” she started to ask, then saw where he was looking. A framed picture of Kate, arm around Allison’s shoulders, kissing her cheek. Allison reached over to the bookshelf and flipped it face-down. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked, still looking at the frame.

“Don’t look at that. I thought I threw it away.” That was a lie. She’d told herself to throw it away a thousand times, but she could never bring herself to do it. It wasn’t her fault that the women she’d loved most were unprincipled killers. It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t stop loving them even now. Or maybe it was, and she really was as weak as she feared.

He must have heard the untruth, but he didn’t confront her with it. “You shouldn’t throw it away.”

Derek’s eyes followed her motion as she reached to push the hair out of her eyes, and she realized he’d been looking at her hand, not the photo. “Why not?”

“Because the Kate that’s come back isn’t the Kate you knew. Pictures are all you have of her.” Which was a nice thing to say, but then of course he had to ruin it. “On the outside, anyway.”

“I’m not like her.” Allison’s fingers curled into fists, and he took a step back, but answered anyway.

“Of course you are.”

The throwing knife sliced through the air before Allison consciously realized she’d propelled it. Derek caught it by the handle when the point was an inch in front of his nose, and raised one eyebrow as he dropped it to the floor at his feet. “Didn’t Scott say no fighting allowed?”

“Get out,” she ordered, low-voiced.

He was gone before she blinked again. They didn’t meet again for a couple of weeks.

 

Hunched over her book, Allison didn’t hear Derek’s approach until he sat down across from her at the picnic table.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “I thought they banned visitors who aren’t parents or guardians.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t bother signing in. People ignore me if I don’t try to attract attention. I make them uneasy so they try to pretend I’m not there.” That was the longest speech he’d ever given in her presence, but he gave her no chance to remark on it. “Do you know where Stiles is? He left his phone in my car.”

“Can’t you just sniff him out?” She flipped the page and pretended to focus on the illustration of the raskovnik plant.

“Does Chris know you brought an incredibly rare manuscript to school like it was a textbook?”

Allison closed her eyes, concentrating on her heartbeat and making it steady. Think of something that calms you, her dad had said. Something you enjoy. Like shooting Derek Hale full of arrows.“Yes.”

His eyebrows lifted with surprise, but he said nothing. Instead, he tilted his head back to soak in the sunlight.

Allison’s shoulders grew more and more tense as the minutes ticked past. Finally, revelation dawned and she sighed. “Scott asked you to keep an eye on me, didn’t he.” She never should have told him about the dreams, but it was hard to keep recurring nightmares about freezing to death in a giant iceberg to yourself.

Derek, eyes closed in deceptively relaxed fashion, gave a breath of laughter. “I told him you wouldn’t like it, but he knows things are a little weird between Isaac and you.”

Allison clenched her jaw so tightly that she felt her teeth squeak in protest. “It’s not _weird_ between Isaac and me,” she spat out. Which was another lie. Things were weird, because Isaac kept giving her these wounded looks and touching her as if she would break, which was just insulting. “And I can take care of myself.”

“No you can’t,” he said, opening his eyes to look at her with a frown of confusion.

Quick as a thought, Allison lunged across the table at him. The dagger she’d shaken free from her wrist sheath rested against his neck before he blinked again. “No?”

Derek had gone still, like any wild thing faced with an unpredictable element, but his expression showed nothing but disdain. “No.”

Now that she’d made the grand gesture, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself, so she swung her legs around and slid to sit on the bench beside him, rotating her wrist so that she could mess with the sheath. It fit a little too loosely—a lot of times she preferred to put it on her ankle instead—so returning the knife to its place was tricky. “I think I’ve proven otherwise.”

“Kate used to say the same thing.”

Only a tiny fantasy about slashing his femoral artery kept her where she was, fumbling with the straps of the sheath. “I’m not like her.”

“You are if you believe that.” When Allison ducked her head, refusing to look at him, he sighed again. “You can’t take care of yourself. Nobody really can. Wolves and humans run in packs for a reason.”

Apropos of nothing, she found herself telling him, “It was my birthday a couple months ago. I’m eighteen.”

She expected him to say _I don’t care_ , but instead he gave her a steady look and held out his hand. Not knowing how else to react, she laid her wrist in his palm. He tightened the bottom strap without looking away from her eyes. “Happy late birthday.”

The lack of antagonism made her unsteady, as if he’d set the world wobbling. Feeling so vulnerable made her want to strike out. “They’re not as happy anymore without my mom.”

“I know the feeling.”

She let her gaze drop, ashamed.

A long pause, and then he shifted, his body relaxing the slightest bit. “You’re older than most people in your grade.”

It had once been her greatest embarrassment, but with him she couldn’t bring herself to care. Derek Hale, thinking Allison Argent was stupid? What a surprise. “My parents moved a lot. Standards are different from state to state. I got behind.” And there it was again. The reason they’d moved so much was to hunt people like him. She literally was incapable of having a simple conversation with Derek. Every word was loaded. She couldn’t just leave it at that, though. “This is the longest I’ve ever lived in one place.”

Rather than answer, he reached for the book and pulled it closer. “Why are you researching raskovnik?”

She flushed, but turned the page back. “I’m not. I’m researching this.”

One corner of Derek’s mouth tugged upward as he looked at the pictures, but he didn’t seem amused. “Roses.”

“They’re hard to keep alive.” Almost, she told him about the way they’d wilted when she’d put them outside in the spring sunshine, hanging on the edge of her windowsill like a careless promise. Almost. But then a shadow fell across the page, and, glancing up, she saw Scott, looking both sheepish and grateful as he divided his attention between her and Derek.

“Hey, guys.”

Allison narrowed her eyes and stood, gathering up her things. Scott was one of her best friends, but this overprotectiveness was ridiculous. “Keep it up,” she told him in a fierce whisper, “and I’ll make out with him in front of you.”

He gaped. Derek’s snort of laughter behind her almost made her jump with shock. Instead, she tossed her head high and walked away, careful not to step too quickly.

“Dude, why would she say that?” she heard Scott ask, sounding genuinely confused. The lack of sleep, and worry for both her and Lydia, was making it hard for him to focus. She’d noticed it over the past few weeks, but hadn’t been able to come up with a way to help, especially since she didn’t understand why Lydia and he kept shooting each other glances fraught with meaning she couldn’t divine. She just knew that if her boyfriend were looking at another girl that often, she’d be a lot more concerned than Kira seemed to be.

Derek’s voice still held a thread of amusement. “She meant with Isaac, not me, Scott. When she wondered why I was here, I told her you asked me to look after her because of Isaac being awkward.”

“Oh. That makes more sense.”

Allison suppressed a smile as she opened the door.

 

It was over. Everything had been taken care of. Peter was in Eichen House, and Kate was a neutralized threat at the moment. The pack was at peace. Even Braeden had said, “You guys are fine,” and zoomed off into the sunset after a hard kiss to Derek’s mouth and a “see you, handsome, I’ve got a job.” So why couldn’t Allison sleep?

Not for the first time, she toyed with the idea of insisting her father take them back to France, not to avoid another confrontation with his sister but to keep him safe from her recrimination. Kate’s scorn had always kicked her father into defensive mode, and the last thing Allison wanted was for him to revert to the older ways.

“Dad?” she whispered, just in case he was hovering outside her bedroom door the way he sometimes did when he thought she didn’t hear. “Are you there?”

Silence. He must have actually gone to bed.

Lydia stirred next to her, whimpering in her sleep. Her body gave off so much heat that Allison pressed a palm to her forehead, then her cheek, trying to see if she had a fever, but she couldn’t tell. How had her mother always read the signs so well? She ran her hand over the red hair and whispered, “Ssh, it’s okay, we’re all okay,” until Lydia’s brow unfurrowed and she sighed, relaxing. Allison slipped off the bed, doing her best not to wake her friend. She wasn’t certain why Lydia begged so often to come over, as if her life depended on it, even though nothing was going on.

When in doubt, Allison always left the apartment. Being bound by walls no longer seemed to offer even the illusion of safety, but high vantage points did. Anything she could see coming, she could shoot.

As she passed her father’s doorway, she heard his breathing falter. It restarted almost immediately, but she knew she’d woken him. She whispered, “I’m going up, not out,” and then slipped through the front door. Once she reached the roof, she settled down among the roses.

Allison’s father tended to jump on any opportunity to give her, well, anything. She knew it was because of guilt and she didn’t know how to fix it, so instead she just let him do whatever made him happy. After she’d mentioned the roses needed something to climb, what made him happy was getting a massive trellis with a bench, and three more mature New Dawns for the giant planters he bought to go with the trellis on the roof. Allison had endured the strain of watching the blooms fade with transplant wilt, and now the roses clung lovingly to their support, still small in stature but filling the July night air with their fragrance. She laid her bow down beside her on the bench and curled up, knees touching her chin, to keep watch.

Truth be told, she knew why she couldn’t sleep. It was all Scott’s fault, for his thoughtless words. Ever since Derek had corrected his assumption, she had been shoving away internal speculation about what, exactly, it would be like to make out with Derek Hale. Sometimes, when her father was being particularly insufferable in bucking her, and she saw that irritating smirk quirking Derek’s lips, she would fantasize about grabbing the lapels of his stupid leather jacket and yanking him close to give his mouth something better to do.

Of course, the threat of imminent death and/or insanity had been her overriding concern, which had made it easy enough to redirect her attention. Also, though he and Braeden didn’t seem to be exclusive, she hadn’t wanted to poach. Now, however, things had calmed down. The… _thing_ with Isaac had run its course enough that he was making puppy eyes at Danny which were totally reciprocated, and Scott was practically drawing hearts around Kira and giving her diamonds, and Derek Hale’s jawline was just as compelling as ever. Even if she _did_ want to punch it as often as she wanted to lick it.

The rustle behind her held a familiar quality, and she rolled her eyes. “Isaac, go away.”

“Not Is—”

Before he could finish the denial, she had leaped to run three feet away and spun with her arrow already notched. Halfway there, she recognized the voice, but her pride wouldn’t let her stop until she had him at a disadvantage. “Why are you on my roof, Derek?”

She expected him to have a ready excuse, but instead he ducked his head in an uncharacteristically awkward fashion. “I was heading home from Scott’s house, and I saw a shadow up here. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Allison lowered her bow. “I’m surprised you care enough to make the trip.” When he didn’t say anything, she asked him the question she’d been wanting to ask since the day Peter had nearly killed Kate. “How did you know my aunt so well?”

Derek gave her a quizzical look. “No one ever told you?”

She had thought it was fishy that Kate had specifically regressed him to such a young age, but hadn’t wanted to speculate. “Obviously not.”

He swallowed, hard, but his gaze stayed steady on her as he spoke. “I loved her. I thought she loved me. She just wanted to use me so she could find out when my whole family would be together.”

Put in such bare terms, the revelation hit her like one of her own arrows. “Oh.” Her knees went shaky beneath her, and she forced them to steady. “I see.”

“Do you?”

“I can understand why Scott had to blackmail you into helping protect me, anyway, back before I knew about him being a werewolf.”

Derek’s expression, shadowed by the roses, shifted in a way that she couldn’t interpret. “He told you about that?”

“He used to tell me everything.” She thought about it for a moment, then amended, “Almost everything.”

“Except for what he thought would hurt you.”

If Scott had been entirely honest with her, she might have been dating him even now. She couldn’t decide if the thought hurt or comforted. Maybe both. “He always thought I was more fragile than I am.”

“Maybe it’s more that you don’t know how fragile you are.”

Normally, she would have thought he was getting in a dig about her vaunted ability to take care of herself, but something underlying his tone made her step closer to peer at his face. “It’s not like you, to think I need protecting, or to think you should be the one to do it.”

“It’s not about you.” The brusque words were belied by the concern in his eyes. “If anything happens to you, it destabilizes the entire pack. I’m looking out for you for Scott’s sake.”

 _If Scott knew how often I think about you, I wonder how much he’d want you around me._ But that was foolish. Scott wasn’t a dog in the manger, and she was no bone over which to be quarreled anyway. Looking out for Scott’s interests was a goal she could agree with, though, so she said, “Thank you.”

His head jerked back the slightest bit. She’d managed to surprise him. Without another word, he turned to head for the stairs. Allison walked to the edge of the roof to look at the street below. When he exited the fire door and headed for his car, she stopped him with a question too quiet for any but werewolf ears to hear. He still had that ability, at least. “Derek? Who looks out for you? Now that Braeden’s gone?”

Hand resting on the car door, he bowed his head for a moment, then looked up at her. “I can look out for myself.”

“Nobody really can,” she whispered, but he drove away as if he hadn’t heard.

Her knees were still weak when she finally curled up on the bed next to Lydia again, but it was from a different revelation.


	2. Circling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison looks for answers. Derek offers one.

_He killed my mother._

_He was saving Scott._

_My aunt killed his family._

_He killed my mother._

_He saved my father’s life._

Allison wasn’t sure how these hostilities should be measured, but if there were a set of karmic scales then perhaps her side balanced with Derek’s.

The next time she saw him, she pretended she hadn’t, and told Scott she had to go meet her dad for dinner.

“But you knew the rest of the pack was coming over to talk about—” he started, unconsciously pulling Kira closer against his side. Kira looked over Allison’s shoulder, where Allison could feel Derek looming in the doorway, and a shadow of understanding dawned in her eyes.

“It’s okay, Scott.” Kira looped her arm around his waist. “I can call Allison later and tell her what we decided and see if she agrees.”

Confusion vanishing, he tilted his head to grin down at his girlfriend. “That’s so nice of you.”

Allison got the feeling that Kira knew some of her past with Derek, and was trying to save Allison from the obligation of working with her mother’s indirect killer. That _should_ have been the problem. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you tonight.” Still telling herself she didn’t see Derek, she walked out. “Not seeing Derek” meant pretending that the exit was for some mysterious reason only three inches wide, rather than blocked by a werewolf who didn’t know to get out of her way.

Since she was already pretending, she also pretended that his body heat didn’t seep into her skin and warm her all the way home.

Kate came to visit that night, dropping in as she sometimes did despite Chris having forbidden her the apartment. “How’s my beautiful niece?”

“Not your niece anymore,” Allison said, without looking up from her homework. “Death canceled the relationship.”

“Haven’t you seen _The Princess Bride_? I was only mostly dead. If you haven’t seen it, we should have a movie night. Girls only.”

“Sure, right after you quit trying to kill members of Scott’s pack. I’ll get the DVD, you get the popcorn.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

Kate bent to kiss her head, and Allison stopped working to close her eyes, wishing she could find the wherewithal to simply _shoot_ her aunt, wishing the imprint of Kate’s lips didn’t feel so warm and familiar and safe. Her chest ached. “Just… go.”

“See you, sweetie.”

A few moments after the roar of Kate’s engine announced her departure, the soft _click_ of the front door had Allison grabbing for her daggers. “Whoever you are, you picked the wrong night,” she muttered, readying herself.

“It’s me,” Derek answered, and she stopped. When he loomed in the bedroom doorway, she couldn’t seem to put the weapons down. He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to stab me, are you?”

“No,” she said, shamefaced, and finally managed to uncurl her fingers to set the daggers on the desk. “Why are you here? Why didn’t you knock?”

“I…” He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I was afraid you might be sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

 _Such_ a liar. “You saw Kate’s car and you were scared she might be watching. You must’ve known she could scent you, if she were here. So why did you come in anyway?” Derek ducked his head even lower, and the other shoe dropped. “You were worried about me. That’s the second time. Why are you worried about me? Why are you even here to worry? Don’t blame Scott again.”

He shrugged, lifting his eyes to meet her gaze once more. “You missed the pack meeting. It’s not like you. I’m Scott’s beta, so if there’s something going on that might distract him, I need to find out about it so I can fix it.”

“Stop it.” She walked closer. “I might not be a werewolf lie detector, but I know when you’re not telling me the truth.”

“Everyone knows when I’m not telling them the truth. I’m a terrible liar.”

The admission surprised a laugh from her. She stopped inches from him, so close she was nearly beneath his chin. “I don’t think—” But she cut herself off because he was looking at her chest, more exposed than usual since she wore only a sports bra and yoga pants. “Are you checking out my boobs? Come _on_.”

“No!” he exclaimed, jerking his gaze up as a blush tinted his cheeks.

 _Now_ he was telling the truth. She craned her neck back to examine her chest. “Then what’re you looking at?”

Derek’s hand intruded into her line of sight to lie flat against her abdomen, right below her sternum. It wasn’t, technically, an erogenous zone. Nor was the expression on his face anything other than intent. But his palm was so _hot_ ; maybe it was a werewolf thing, although she couldn’t remember Scott or Isaac being anything besides the normal sort of boy-warm, and she was trying and failing to distract herself from the way Derek’s touch made her pulse pound and her breath come fast.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” he said, distraction clear in his tone.

“Um, yeah, because I’m not dead.” Despite the bravado of her tone, she couldn’t quite keep her voice steady. “The real question is, why do you want to feel it? Especially considering you can _hear_ it.”

“I can’t hear it anymore.” She started at the admission, but he seemed not to be affected by his words. “I just wanted… I wish it were easier.” He slid his hand up her side, to cradle her neck, thumb rubbing against her jugular. “I feel like I’m living with one eye closed and my nose cut off, without my wolf. It’s hard to believe in the things I should.”

“You’re not—” The words came out a breathy whisper, and she stopped to clear her throat. “You’re not making any sense.”

Derek shook his head. She could tell he was going to step away, and leave, and she didn’t want that even though she also didn’t want to figure out why not, so she leaned into his chest to kiss him. He jerked back before she could make contact, and her lips landed on his chin. Flushing with embarrassment, Allison dropped her hands, stepping back and looking anywhere but his face. “Oh my God. I don’t even know what I’m doing. Sorry! Sorry. Can you—”

But he reached out and caught her wrist, pulling her back against him with a gentle tug. Allison found herself with her face pressed to his neck. After a second, he drew back enough to tilt his head and consider her mouth in a way that had her parting her lips in anticipation, but he didn’t kiss her. “I shouldn’t do this. It isn’t right.”

Genuinely baffled, she asked, “Why?”

He seemed to fumble for an explanation before coming up with, “You’re a kid.”

That stung. “I’m legal. I’ve been through things most adults can’t imagine. Don’t call me a kid just to make this seem like a mistake.”

“No.” He huffed a sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Is it a mistake?”

“I don’t want it to be.”

A series of beeps from the front door announced a new arrival. “Oh, shit, it’s my dad. You can go out the window, right?”

He allowed her to step back, but didn’t move except to give her a _what the hell?_ look. “Why would I do that?”

Allison gaped, then fished for an explanation for her knee-jerk reaction. The only one she could come up with was, “Don’t you care if he catches you here?”

“Your dad and I might not be friends, exactly, but I don’t think he’s going to kill me for talking to his daughter.”

“Allison? Did I see Derek’s car outside?”

She forced her voice into a matter-of-fact tone. “He’s here with me.”

“Just here on pack business,” Derek said, wandering out to join her dad. “How’s it going, Chris?”

Allison sat down heavily on her bed and stewed long after Derek drove away.

_Is it a mistake?_

_I don’t want it to be._

She didn’t see Derek for a few days, during which time she grew more and more distracted until Lydia finally asked, “What’s wrong?”

Allison didn’t raise her eyes from her homework. “Nothing. Why?”

“Don’t lie.”

Now Allison did look at her, sitting across the library table with a worried frown directed Allison’s way. Which, now that Allison thought about it, had at some point turned into Lydia’s default expression when around her, and Allison didn’t understand why. “I’m not lying. Nothing’s _wrong_. I’m just thinking a lot about stuff lately.”

The frown cleared, mostly. “What sort of stuff?” Lydia leaned closer. “Boy stuff?”

“Man stuff,” Allison said under her breath, but Lydia heard it clearly.

“Ooh, _man_? Which one?”

Allison gave her a dirty look. “Wuh-man. _Woman. Stuff._ ”

“Don’t even. You promised that if you ever decided to experiment it would be with me, so I’d already know about that. Oh my God, it’s the sheriff, isn’t it.”

“Gross! Lydia, what the hell?”

Lydia shrugged. “He’s got a DILF-vibe, though not as much as _your_ dad. Don’t deny it.” At Allison’s paralyzed stare of horror, she rolled her eyes. “If it’s not him, then who?”

Allison finally gave in. “Derek.” Lydia gaped. “See, I knew you’d react that way and that’s why—”

“Don’t be stupid; you’re perfect for each other. What’s the holdup?”

Allison glanced around to see if any werewolves were in the vicinity, and still lowered her voice as she leaned across the table. “We kind of almost made out for half a minute a couple weeks ago.”

“Only half a minute?”

“My dad came home.”

“Huh. And that was it.”

“Yeah. Well, mostly. I mean, he said, ‘this isn’t right,’ but I guess I should have expected that.”

Lydia blanched. “Why?”

Taken aback by the overreaction, Allison patted Lydia’s hand, warmer than hers even in the library’s chill. “You know, the whole hunter-and-werewolf thing. He’d think about it seriously, especially because of Kate, even if he’s not a werewolf anymore. Have you seen him?”

“No. Sorry. You could ask Scott.” But she said it with the air of someone who knew their suggestion would be rejected.

She was right about that. “I can’t. ‘Hey, Scott, I made out with _another_ werewolf who’s not you. Seen him lately? I promise this time I didn’t shoot him or anything.’ He might be over me, but that doesn’t mean he’s a saint.”

“Well, you’re a hunter.” At Allison’s raised eyebrows, Lydia sighed in exasperation. “So _hunt_.”

That night, Allison took her friend’s advice, heading out into the dark armed only with her ring daggers and a GPS tracker. So she’d planted a device on Derek’s car when she’d checked his loft a few days ago. It wasn’t like she’d _used_ it before now.

He had parked at the end of the trail to Lookout Point. She left her car there too and followed his tracks, making her steps soundless the way her father had taught her.

When she reached the clearing, she found Derek fighting off a group of wendigos.

Allison paused behind a tree trunk, assessing the situation and cursing the fact that this _would_ be the one night that she left her usual arsenal at home. Despite the impression the moonlight and speed gave, there were only three of them, but Derek wasn’t that used to fighting in a purely human body yet. She could tell he was barely holding his own. Throwing a dagger was an iffy proposition (why why _why_ had she not brought any of her other knives?) so she couldn’t come to his aid from a distance.

Well. Maybe if she made a big enough impression she could scare them off.

Accordingly, she grabbed her daggers and ran straight at them, stabbing one in the lung before they realized she was there. With her best approximation of a Lydia-volume shriek, she followed up with a flip and an upward jab of one blade directly into a second wendigo’s gut. The third had Derek on his back, ready to bite, so she grabbed the creature’s hair and yanked back, towards herself. He twisted in her grip and bit frantically at her wrist. She jerked away. The glint of metal in the corner of her eye was enough warning to drop to the ground before Derek fired and the last wendigo fell.

She got up, wiping leaves and blood spray off her face, only to be grabbed at the elbows by a very angry former werewolf. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Surprised into inaction, she stuttered out, “W-what?”

He shook her, not enough to hurt but enough to punctuate his words. “Do you know how dangerous and stupid that was? Running out here with nothing but a couple of daggers? You could’ve been killed!”

Allison’s brain kicked back into gear and she shoved his hands away. “What the hell is your problem? I was helping!”

“My _problem_ is that you treat your goddamn life like it’s cheap!” he roared, so loudly that she half-expected his eyes to glow. “If you’d been hurt, how could I have explained it to Scott? Or your dad?”

She snorted. “You only took out one and I did two. No explanations necessary. I can take care of myself _and you_.”

“No, you fucking can’t!”

He grabbed her shoulders, this time, but she could see the look in his eyes now and it wasn’t for him, it was for her, the same watchful fear she saw lurking in Lydia’s eyes, and Scott’s, and Isaac’s when she could get him to meet her gaze, and it frightened her so much that the fright metamorphosed to fury. She punched him. “What is _wrong_ with all of you?”

He gave her the satisfaction of flinching, though she couldn’t tell if it was because of the blow she landed or the question. “Allison, if anything happened to you…”

She raised her chin and stepped back. “I’ve already thought about it. Scott can give me the bite.”

He stared as if she’d spontaneously grown fangs and lost her eyebrows. “He _what_?”

“If I get wounded. I probably won’t die instantaneously. So, if it happens, it’ll most likely be when I’m with Scott, and he can give me the bite. I’ll be a werewolf, so that’ll be… tricky, but it’s better than dying.”

Derek sounded as if he were suffocating. “You should probably let him know about your contingency plan. In case anything ever _does_ happen.”

 _I’m not going to die_ , she nearly contradicted, before realizing what a stupid thing that would be to say, and nodded. “I’ll put it on my to-do list.”

“Good. I…” He collapsed at her feet.

“Oh my God.” Allison fell to her knees, feeling for wounds. Her hand came away sticky from his side, just beneath his armpit. Delicately cutting the material away, she peeled it back to reveal an ugly bite. Blood had soaked all the way down into his jeans. He’d been bleeding while he’d been wasting time chastising her. “Idiot.” She wasn’t strong enough to lift him alone, so who should she call? Her dad was out of the question, Isaac was a no-go, Scott had plans with Kira and she didn’t want to bug them on a date—not least because it would look like a clingy ex-girlfriend move—and Stiles and Lydia were both weaker than she. So that left Malia.

Malia showed up by herself minutes later, with a sharp gaze that betrayed more concern than her brusque “What a pain in the ass,” revealed. She hefted Derek effortlessly into a firefighter’s carry and began trudging back to the cars before Allison could even tell her to be careful. Once they were back at his apartment, Malia finished the job of ripping his clothes off, so thoroughly that Allison threw her hands over her eyes out of reflex before Malia’s scoff brought her back to her senses.

“It’s bad, but it’ll heal. Eventually.” Malia eyed him from head to toe in impartial assessment. “He’s been keeping healthy, even if the werewolf thing isn’t helping him out anymore.”

Allison decided that if his own cousin wasn’t going to be affected by Derek’s total nudity, then neither was she. “That should help. Thanks for coming all the way out there.”

Malia nodded. “Stiles gets upset if I don’t help pack members.”

And anything that upset Stiles wasn’t worth it to Malia. “That’s cool. See you.”

Malia gave her a surprised glance. “You want to be left alone with Derek?”

Allison busied herself with cleaning Derek’s wound so she could avoid the other girl’s eyes. He had a deep black mark cobwebbing the bend of one elbow, but when she poked it she realized it was only scar tissue. Just one injury to worry about, then. “No! Why?”

Malia pushed the bowl of water closer to her. “You said ‘see you.’ Like, ‘get lost.’ I might not have been human for half of my life but I can pick up on that sort of cue. What’s going on between you two? He’s been smelling interested for a while, but I can’t figure out what you’re feeling.”

Allison dabbed the washcloth over the dried blood, trying to discern where it ended and the actual injury began. “Probably because I can’t figure it out, either. How did you figure out what _Stiles_ wanted?”

“I took off all his clothes, then I took off all of my clothes, and then I looked to see if he seemed into it.”

“Well, we’re halfway there I guess.” The blood wasn’t really flowing out anymore, so that was good, but she’d have to clean it, which meant she’d interrupt the coagulation process again. “Give me the dry towel?”

Malia handed it to her. “When he wakes up, get naked and see if he screws you.”

Allison snorted with laughter. “I think I’d rather wait till he’s healthy to do that.”

“So you _do_ want to have sex with him.”

Shit. “I guess it seems like I do.”

“Uh-huh. Well, this has been fun and all, but I’ve got a Stilinski window to climb through. Bye.”

Allison finished bandaging the wound after Malia left before crushing some ibuprofen to wash down Derek’s throat. She didn’t like that he stayed unconscious through the procedure, but she had heard him express his hatred of hospitals more than once since losing his wolf so she wanted to avoid that route if possible. Once she was done, she checked his pulse: steady and strong.

“I’d be happier if you had some antibiotics,” she murmured to herself, and he opened his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Derek didn’t answer, but gave her a sleepy smile that made her heart twist in response. She’d never seen his expression so robbed of hostility.

“Go back to sleep,” she told him, and of course that brought him around, because when had Derek Hale ever done anything she’d asked?

“Why am I home?” He tried to sit up, but stopped with a wince.

“Because you’re human now, and things like wendigo bites can actually kill you if you don’t stop the bleeding. You should’ve told me you were hurt.”

“I would have,” he said, genuine surprise in his tone. “I didn’t know I was that bad off. Pain is different now, so I’m not great at judging.” He reached for the bandage and felt its edges. “That’s a neat job. Thanks.”

The praise threw her off balance. She blushed so hard that she could feel the color rise from her collarbone to her hairline. _Pull yourself together, Allison._ “You’re welcome. Um… should I call somebody to come help you? Braeden?”

Derek’s eyes were drifting closed, but he managed to respond faintly. “She’s in Ecuador right now. I wouldn’t want to pull her off her job for this. We’re not like that.”

Allison watched as he fell asleep. When his breathing slipped into a deeper rhythm, she gave up fighting the urge to brush his hair back from his face.

“Is it a mistake?” she whispered, and he smiled again, nuzzling into her hand without waking. “I don’t want it to be either, Derek.”

The next night, she couldn’t sleep again, so she headed up to the rooftop even though the air was starting develop a bit of a chill. She stopped dead once she walked out the door, but the shadow sitting on the trellis bench raised his head and she ran forward. “Derek!”

“I saw your light was on, so I thought you might come up here.” He scooted over, and she took the proffered spot without thinking about it. “Your roses are always in full bloom. That’s amazing.”

“Is it?” Distracted, Allison looked around at the flowers. “They make me happy, but I don’t do anything to deserve how well they grow.”

To her surprise, Derek didn’t stay silent. “My mom loved to garden. She used to joke that dogs were supposed to like digging in the dirt so she was just staying true to her nature.”

Allison laughed. “That’s so funny; my mom—” She stopped.

Derek moved his hand to cover hers where it lay on the bench between them. “Tell me.”

All of her awareness focused on the warmth of his fingers. She had to make an effort to speak. “I just—she hated getting dirty, so she hired landscapers, but she loved to bake, and she would _destroy_ the kitchen when she did it. Flour and sugar and everything all over the place. It was always spotless twenty minutes after she finished, but if you walked in during the process you wouldn’t have recognized her.” Grief rushed up on her, the way it hadn’t in months, and a couple of tears spilled over before she could blink them back. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” She whisked them away with the back of her free hand and offered a determined smile up to him. “So. Yeah. Why were you stalking me this time?”

He seemed disturbed, for reasons she couldn’t guess, but he answered the question. “I wanted to see you, but I was too much of a coward to call ahead.”

“Coward? Why?” She could flip her hand over and lace her fingers through his. Maybe that would tell him what she wanted him to know. She kept her hand as it was.

Derek angled toward her, eyes on her mouth. Allison tilted her head back in invitation. Instead of kissing her, though, he kept moving until his face pressed to the curve where her neck and shoulder joined. A shiver of primal fear shook her—teeth, so close to her jugular, and this werewolf had no reason to love her—but she reminded herself that the man breathing in her scent had no wolf within him. She ran her fingers through his hair, and it was his turn to shiver.

“I haven’t been able to sleep for weeks,” he confessed, the words branding her skin with heat. “And every time I do, I dream about you.”

“Good dreams?”

The shiver turned into a shudder. “No.” Allison stopped stroking his hair and stiffened, but he caught her waist in his hands before she could move. “Nightmares about bad things happening to you. I thought—at first I thought it was just because—trauma, and for whatever reason it had your face—but then even when I was awake I couldn’t stop thinking about . . . but when I’m with you, it’s fixed. It’s better.”

Allison had often perceived herself as an asset to the pack, but this was the first time someone had told her she made them feel better just by the fact of her presence. All this disclosure pushed her to make a revelation of her own, to balance the scales of confession. “I can’t stop thinking about you either, but it’s not because of nightmares.”

His breath stopped for a telling second, and his fingers tightened on her sides. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

The soft-spoken plea dizzied her with the dominance it put within her grasp. What was a girl to say, when such a powerful man placed himself at her disposal? She leaned back to cradle his face in her hands. He met her gaze, and for the second time ever he had no defenses raised.

“Kiss me, Derek,” she requested, and he obeyed.

 


	3. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love among the roses and a very odd mirror.

Derek kissed as if her mouth against his drowned out all other sensations. Allison had never been on the receiving end of so much single-minded intensity before. He pressed more eager kisses to her jaw, her temple, her eyelids, her lips again as she straddled him. She smiled at his scowl of frustration when her arms didn’t lift fast enough to allow him to finish pulling off her sweater.

“It’s all right, I’ll help,” she soothed, and helped tug the wool over her head.

The sharp bite of the breeze sent goosebumps across her skin before his arms enclosed her in protective warmth. “Better?” His fingertips skimmed her sides, played along the lines of her ribs, then one hand buried itself in her hair while the other grasped her hip.

Allison licked his neck, enjoying the way it made him catch his breath. “Much.” She planted a tiny kiss to his jaw. “I’m glad I never punched it.” It would have been a real shame to ruin such a pretty line.

He huffed with incredulous laughter against her ear. “Punched what? _Shit_ ,” as she nipped him.

She meant to explain, but the way he touched her robbed her of words. She’d never been with a full-grown man before, someone who wasn’t befuddled by bra hooks even for a moment, and who understood how to handle tights. The confidence with which he moved simultaneously aroused her and made her nervous. The boys she’d slept with had been easy to please, grateful for the opportunity and possessing as little basis for comparison as she had.

Well, there was one way to thoroughly distract a guy from whatever uncertainty you might be feeling. She slid her hand down to his jeans and pressed her palm to his erection.

Derek made a muffled sound and yanked her up on her knees so that he could kiss her cleavage, bracing her with one hand on her back while he unzipped her skirt with the other. Allison clutched at his arms, dizzied by the feeling of his whiskers abrading soft skin as he lapped at the curve of one breast.

He seemed willing to spend forever right there, but she was realizing that she’d been ready for weeks. “Oh God—I need—” She grabbed one of his hands and moved it between her legs.

Derek’s fingers slid into her underwear and over her folds, already slick, making her groan, but instead of going deeper, he silently urged her backward so she stood, and then knelt before her. He kissed her belly as he slid her underwear down. Allison dug her fingers into his shoulders in anticipation, intrigued by the way he smiled to himself before he moved her ankles a little farther apart and licked her.

Allison’s knees started to buckle within seconds, but Derek just held her up at her hips and kept going, long swipes of his tongue that began to blend into a continuous fever pitch of sensation until he closed his mouth over her clit and she couldn’t take it anymore. “I need you inside me,” she told him, and didn’t even care that her voice trembled. “ _Now_ , Derek.”

He growled in response. She squeaked at the vibration, but didn’t have time to dwell on it because he stood up.

Allison reached for his zipper. He helped her get it open, shoving his pants and underwear down and then sitting down on the bench. Allison was about to straddle him again when she remembered: “Condom?”

Rather than answer, he reached to fish in his jeans pocket and came out with a foil packet. Allison decided she would consider that bit of preparation later and opted for rolling the condom on instead.

She lowered herself onto his cock a little too fast, and winced at the twinge of discomfort.

Derek went still and leaned back to examine her face. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Just a little—” She raised herself up an inch or two, in experimental fashion, and sank down again. Derek squeezed his eyes shut and actually _whimpered_ the slightest bit, the sound so quick she would have missed it if she hadn’t become suddenly attuned to his every breath. Allison had never been so turned on in her life, ever; she was going to die if she didn’t come within the next five minutes. She wanted to tell him so, but the only words that would leave her mouth as she moved faster was, “Please… oh please… please, Derek, please…”

Derek circled his thumb over her clit, keeping pace with her rhythm until at last she cried out and clenched around his length. He held out a little longer, but she scraped her teeth over his earlobe, and that sent him over the edge, pulsing into her while he held her close. Allison wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her forehead on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head.

After they reluctantly separated, straightening their clothes and cleaning up, she settled down on his lap once more. He gave a tiny start of surprise, but his arms closed around her without protest.

His voice broke the silence before she could figure out what to say. “I used to go to the garden a lot, after my family died, before Laura finished up all the details and we could leave again.”

Not _after Kate killed my family._ Allison was grateful for the concession. “I remember that, from when my mom passed away. There’s so much stuff to take care of. Insurance and memorials and wills and… stuff.”

“Yeah. I should’ve helped Laura, but… I couldn’t. I just sat there and tried to think of a way to undo it all. To make them come back. I’d talked to Deaton, and Morrell, and anyone else I could think of, but everyone said there was no safe way to time travel, and undoing death was never a good idea, even with intact bodies, which we didn’t have.”

Allison absorbed that. She’d never stopped to consider the notion that her mother could be brought back, perhaps because her grandfather had turned her trauma to purposed rage so quickly. “I guess knowing what we know, about how many impossible things are real, makes it seem like anything _should_ be possible. Kind of brings a whole new meaning to the ‘denial’ stage of grief.”

“Exactly.” He reached for her hand, resting on his chest, and picked it up, turning it to trace the crease arcing across the center of her palm. “For a long time, when I looked at you, it was like I was seeing my dead family instead.”

“That’s understandable.” She waited for a moment to let him speak if he wanted to, then asked, “What do you see now?”

Derek stood, and lifted her to her feet too. “I could say a lot of different things, but they’d all sound horrible and cheesy even though they’d be true.”

“Say them anyway,” she suggested, stepping closer until she could feel his heat again.

He kissed her instead, and she forgot to wonder.

 

Isaac had never been more than a fling. Scott had been Allison’s first long-term boyfriend, and so she only had that experience to compare with her relationship with Derek. She had liked being a little bit older than Scott. His puppyish enthusiasm made it easy to play, which otherwise she might have felt obligated to forego out of respect for her age. And even though she hadn’t liked her father being out for Scott’s blood, the secretive element had satisfied part of her need for adventure. Plus, after a lifetime of never truly belonging anywhere, it had felt great to know she belonged to someone who was a part of her newest home, and that others could see that assimilation into their world.

With Derek, everything was different.

She had no idea how to tell Lydia, or what to tell her. When she opened her mouth to try, the profound delight awoken in her by Derek’s affection found no words to express itself. Her attention didn’t wander during the day when they were apart, but it felt like part of her was looking for him until the next time they met. Even if he were simply standing beside her and his arm brushed hers, she would feel excitement flare to life in her stomach as her body simultaneously leaned towards his.

Allison wondered if they should break the news officially, or tell Stiles and thereby tell everyone else by proxy. She wanted to ask Derek what he thought, but thought that maybe it was a juvenile conversation to have. Did adults worry about how to let other people know about their dating lives?

It turned out not to matter. “He always holds your coat for you,” Lydia observed one night.  She was bent over, picking up the shattered pieces of a mirror they’d found in an abandoned office building that belonged to Peter, and so her voice was muffled enough that Allison could pretend she hadn’t heard.

“Hmm?”

“Derek.” Lydia straightened to examine a particularly long shard. Its edges gleamed with a sharp blue light. “He always holds your coat for you. Or if you drop something, he picks it up before you even have a chance to reach for it. If you’re out of arrows, he’s got a new quiver ready.”

“Does he?” Her ignorance was a dodge, of course. Every time Derek proved he was paying attention, Allison’s heart pounded in a way that she was surprised the werewolves hadn’t picked up on yet.

“And tonight, he got in the front seat next to you instead of taking his own car.”

Allison took the shard from Lydia and looked at her own reflection. No giveaway in her expression. Her lying was really coming along; her mother would have been proud. “There’s no sense in taking two cars when we’re going to the same place.”

“Yeah, but he hates being dependent on other people for rides.”

No use in being surprised over Lydia’s perspicacity. “So… what are you saying?”

“Did you end up sleeping with him?”

More like the opposite. Even when he drifted off beside her in his bed, Allison stayed awake to memorize every detail of his face, his body, the way the corner of his mouth would pull upward if she kissed his shoulder, no matter how deep his slumber. She would return home exhausted early in the morning, incandescent with enchantment, and spend the rest of the day warming herself with its glow. Such minute parsing of language was beneath her friendship with Lydia, though. With a sigh, Allison lowered the mirror and met Lydia’s inquiring gaze. “Yes.”

Lydia gasped, mouth a perfect “O” of glee. “No! More than once? Are you dating now? Tell me everything!”

“I’m not sure what to tell.” The glass was cold, so cold that it burned Allison’s skin, but she didn’t want to put it down. Her fingers curled possessively around its edges. “It’s really different.”

Lydia’s face twisted in disappointment. “What, he’s not really into you? Is that okay with you?”

“Oh no no no,” Allison hastened to deny. “No. He’s… he’s as into me as I am to him. Which is kind of a lot. And he lets me know it.”

 _I love you,_ he would whisper into her hair as he curled against her back. He always gathered her hands in one of his to warm them—even as a human his heat was greater. _I love you, Allison._ She had never said it back, but it was only because the words seemed paltry beside the depth of her feelings. _Love_ was too easy to say. She had fought so hard for so long against it. Now her attachment to Derek, grown without her help like the roses, seemed fundamental to her existence. She had become the trellis that gave it a place to bloom.

The mirror’s burn turned to a liquid slide, and Lydia cried out in shock. “Allison! Oh my God, put it down!”

Allison looked down to see her palm dripping while the mirror flared brighter beneath the red. The glass had grown cold enough that it seemed her blood should freeze to it. An answering chill shot through her stomach, from sternum to spine.

A larger hand closed over her own and coaxed her fingers open. As soon as she dropped the mirror, it shattered into microscopic grains. They floated up into a glittering whirl that surrounded her torso for a brief instant before flying through an open window into the clear night sky. Allison staggered at the tug beneath her ribs, urging her to follow the cloud’s path. But Derek’s arms closed around her from behind, and instead she leaned into his embrace while he inspected her hand.

Lydia, watching the tableau with narrowed eyes, made a pleased noise like she’d arrived at an expected confirmation to a hypothesis.

“What’s going on?” Scott asked, running in with Kira at his side. “I smelled blood—oh shit, Allison, what happened?” He crossed to look at her hand for himself, while Kira walked to Lydia and picked up a piece of the mirror.

“Careful with that,” Lydia warned her, and opened the leather messenger bag she’d brought along. “We should take the pieces with us. They’re obviously enchanted.”

Allison was too busy wondering why Scott seemed unfazed by the sight of Derek’s arms around her to answer, but Derek said, “This cut is strange. It’s healing too quickly.”

“That’s not actually a problem,” Allison said, confused by the worry that settled into the others’ expressions at his words.

They all hastened to agree with her. Their fixed smiles left her colder than the edge of the mirror.

She spent that night in Derek’s bed. His touch seemed more urgent than usual, and his hands pressed the outlines of her body as if he wanted to hold the boundaries of her form in place. She tried her best to offer reassurance with kisses and embraces of her own. When he fell asleep with his head on her chest, she thought she had succeeded, but she woke in the early morning with his fingers splayed across her stomach. They covered the exact point where the mirror had sent ice stabbing through her.

She moved his hand to look at her skin. No sign of a former wound met her inquiring gaze.

But then again, her palm bore no mark either.


	4. Upon Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mirror, assembled. The answer, revealed, at least in part.

Lydia, with her usual precision, joined the shattered pieces of the mirror into a mostly whole oval over the course of the next few days. Since she was worried about having it at her house, and what could happen to her mother if she touched it unawares, she worked in the study at the Argents’ apartment. Allison came home one day to find Derek already there next to Lydia, peering at the mirror fragments while clutching an opened book. He gave her a quick smile and a kiss, but left almost immediately, after a glance at Lydia that Allison couldn’t read.

“I wouldn’t touch that thing,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

Allison looked over the shards. “I know he’s worried, but it seems normal.”

Lydia beckoned her closer to where the mirror rested on the desk, covering almost its entire surface. “Look at your eyes in the reflection.”

Allison obeyed. At first, she still saw nothing wrong, but then—”Whoa.” Her features were subtly _wrong._ Not the shape of them, but their cast. The imprint her personality had made upon her face was gone, erased, and in its place rested a cold, hard facsimile of her, no compassion or vulnerability in its gaze. Her eyes glittered flat and merciless. Worse, she was translucent.

Lydia’s reflection loomed behind hers, naked ambition clear on its face, but her form appeared solid. When she spoke, her mirror image’s lips cut through the words like blades. “This is bad. Whoever did this—it’s bad.”

Fascinated in spite of herself, Allison asked, “Who told you about the mirror? You knew to look in that building for it, but how did you know about it at all?”

“Your aunt.”

Allison heard her voice change to match the expression she saw on her reflection. “I don’t have an aunt anymore.”

“Sorry. Kate. She acted like we might thank her for it if we found it.”

“She’s probably planning to take it from you. Better hide it in a safe place. And since when do you talk to Kate?”

She turned to look at Real-Lydia’s face, but her friend refused to meet her gaze. “Only when it’s unavoidable.”

“Does she visit you?” Lydia kept looking at her very expensive high heels. Allison reached for her hand. “Lydia, does she _threaten_ you?”

“Oh, no, she’d never hurt me.” Lydia’s fingers closed over Allison’s, clutching them like a talisman. “I’m too valuable.”

“Valuable for what?” Allison wanted to scream. The feeling that everyone in the world knew something she didn’t had been growing for so long that now any confirmation of that feeling was the final straw. “Lydia, what are you all not telling me?”

Lydia’s mouth opened, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she stared at Allison with helpless eyes for a moment, and sighed. “Have you looked at your roses lately?”

Caution warred with anger, and this time caution won out. Allison picked up the book Derek had left on the desk chair to give herself an excuse to look away. “Not since this morning. I’m sure they’re fine.” _New Fairy Tales_ , the title read, and underneath that, _Nye Eventyr._ She ran her finger across the gold lettering on the spine, trying to figure out what Derek would have wanted from this book in particular.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Allison gave Lydia a sharp glance and set the book down again. “Why not?” Without waiting for an answer, she walked out and headed to the roof.

She should have known. Lydia had an intimate relationship with death, after all. But the sight that greeted her eyes when she flung the door open made her gasp in spite of herself. All her roses were gone, the petals blown away by the same chill wind that seemed to sink into her bones the moment she stepped outside. The vines left behind had turned brittle and brown. Snow began to fall, thick and fast; it swirled around her ankles in tiny white tornadoes as she ran to check on the plants.

“Allison, come back inside,” Lydia begged, shivering in the doorway. “It’s not safe for you to be out here in this weather.”

“A little snow won’t kill me,” Allison said, but Lydia had known about the roses so she added, “Will it?” She spun around and stalked back to her friend. “Will it kill me, Lydia?”

Lydia reached for her hand again. “Please, please, come inside where it’s safe.”

Allison didn’t fight the clamp of Lydia’s fingers, but she didn’t move her feet either. “What’s dangerous about the snow? Tell me now.”

The quality of Lydia’s touch had changed. Her eyes went vacant, and her hand fell limply to her side. She whispered, “Derek.”

Allison went still with terror. “Where? No, don’t waste time, just take me there.”

Lydia turned and walked from her room to her car, Allison following close behind. They rode in silence, even though Allison wanted to protest the fact that her friend seemed not to see the road before her. At last they pulled up in front of Derek’s building. Allison bounded out of the car, ready to race through the door, but a blue light illuminating the ground before her drew her gaze upward.

Derek stood on his balcony’s rail, arm stretched out, reaching for a woman who hovered in the air above him.

“Derek!” Allison shouted, fear choking her.

He glanced down at her, but his expression was so remote and uncaring that he seemed a different man. The woman looked down too. Her skin showed an inhuman pallor, as white as an untouched snowfall. Her entire form shimmered like the aurora borealis, so beautiful that the cruelty her features bore would have been easy to miss if Allison hadn’t already been afraid of her. Allison’s gut roiled in response to the icy gaze, but she reached back into her quiver and pulled an arrow forward, nocking it as she said, “Leave him alone.”

The woman laughed, and her voice drifted to Allison’s ears like a wayward North wind. “I only want to kiss him. Is that so much to ask?”

Allison pulled the bowstring back and kept her aim steady. “Derek, get down from there.”

“He’s so very clever,” the woman mused. She caressed Derek’s face. He kept his eyes fixed adoringly on her. “I think I shall keep him in my great hall, with the other works of art.”

The chill her words produced spread even through Allison’s always-cold body. “He’s not yours.”

“Isn’t he?” The woman grasped Derek by the hand. Together they floated down till their feet hovered just inches above the ground. Snow flew up from nothing to dance around them. Allison’s hair whipped in the wind until her face stung with it, and the snowflakes whispered to her.

_he’s yours_

_you’re hers_

_he’s forever hers_

The woman bent to look Allison in the eye. “But Allison, surely you know to whom you owe your allegiance?”

 _How does she know my name?_ Her fingers were growing numb, but Allison’s arrow remained pointing at the woman’s heart. “I live by my family’s code. It has my allegiance.”

Her target ignored the weapon directed her way. “The Argent clan has sworn fealty to me, and only me.” She approached to kiss Allison on the mouth. Frost bloomed from her lips and swept over Allison’s face. The woman drew back and smiled. “You must not forget again, or I might take offense.”

Allison tried to reply, but all her breath had crystallized within her chest. Images and sensations tumbled through her mind in a freefall of memory. With a tinkling laugh, the woman flew upward, Derek still grasped firmly by the hand, until she reached a sleigh hovering in front of the crescent moon. Allison watched helplessly as the sleigh soared into the sky and bore Derek away.

 

“Allison!” Lydia’s arms closed around her, hotter than a bonfire, but Allison still couldn’t move. “Allison, talk to me. Oh my God, what did she do to you? Your skin is like ice.” She put her hands on Allison’s cheeks.

Allison tried again to speak, but no sound would come from her glaciated throat. Lydia, seeming to grasp the problem, took a deep breath and kissed Allison. Warmth spread from the point of contact until Allison’s lips could move once more. “I’m okay,” she said against Lydia’s mouth, and her friend fell back to examine her again.

“Are you sure?”

“As okay as I can be. Who _was_ that? She acted like she knew me!”

Lydia shook her head, hands still patting frantically over Allison’s arms, her sides, and her face. “Maybe we should ask your dad about that.”

The deep freeze in Allison’s belly reminded her of something, but she couldn’t pinpoint what that something was. She pressed her fist to the area just below her sternum.

Lydia’s eyes widened at the gesture. “What? What’s wrong? Tell me!”

Allison frowned in confusion. “I’ve been cold like this before… When was it?”

Lydia had stopped breathing. She stared, unblinking, at Allison.

“Why can’t I remember?” Allison fumbled internally, grasping at the edge of images just barely within reach. Yellow-green light. A silver arrowhead. Scott’s face, contorted with tears. Her father, kneeling.

Cold spreading over her body. The taste of copper in her mouth.

_You have to tell my dad—!_

“Allison,” Lydia said, her voice only a reedy whisper. “We need to go get the others. We need to find Derek.”

Allison focused on Lydia’s face once more. “Does this have to do with the thing none of you are telling me?”

“We don’t have time!” Lydia grabbed her sleeve and tugged. “Please. Please get in the car and let’s go.”

She didn’t have much of a choice, so she got into the car. On their way over to Scott’s house, though, Allison kept mulling over the flashes of memory the ice-woman’s kiss had awakened.

_You have to tell my dad—!_

_The Argent clan has sworn fealty to me, and only me._

Her father, kneeling.

There had been the nogitsune inside Stiles, and then they had been in the desert looking for Derek, but how had he gotten there?

Scott’s face, contorted with tears.

Yellow-green light.

_It doesn’t hurt._

Derek hadn’t been there when they’d defeated the nogitsune, had he?

 _Had_ they defeated the nogitsune? She’d never stopped to think about it before, but the creature had just sort of disappeared, and everyone had talked like it wasn’t an issue, so she’d gone with that assumption.

Lydia pulled up in front of the McCall house, and Allison followed her in.

“Kira and Malia are on the way,” Scott said, as soon as they were in the foyer. “Tell me exactly what happened, Allison. Lydia told me what she saw but I want to hear your version too.” Stiles and Isaac stood in the doorway to the living room behind him, looking at her expectantly.

Instead, Allison asked, “How did we beat the nogitsune?”

Everyone went still, eyeing her as if she were an unpinned grenade.

“What happened, when we fought it?” Allison walked to Scott and reached for his hand, clutching it in both her own with two fingers pressed to his wrist. It looked like a pleading gesture, but it was a trick her mother had taught her to take someone’s pulse without them noticing. Victoria had rarely played the helpless card, preferring to let her demeanor intimidate people into cooperation, but she’d pointed out that Allison’s face lent itself more to the former than the latter.

He spoke slowly, so maybe he’d guessed. “Do you really not remember?”

“Don’t answer me with more questions, Scott! I have to know. The woman who took Derek seemed offended that I didn’t, and that’s going to matter.”

“I bit the nogitsune, and then Kira stabbed him. He died, mostly.”

Steady pulse. No lie. “Okay, but why don’t I remember?” He hesitated, so Allison pressed. “You know, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t know why.” Still telling the truth.

It was time to go for broke. “What happened to me?” She swallowed, and looked around at everyone else in genuine entreaty. “Why is part of my memory erased? Why are you all afraid of me getting hurt? Why did the woman who took Derek expect me to know her?” She heard the desperation in her voice, but she couldn’t seem to control it. Kira came in as she asked the most important question. “Why am I so cold _all the time_?”

“Allison, sit down,” Lydia begged, but Kira spoke over her with an apologetic sideways glance.

“You died.”

The room seemed to spin. Allison staggered; Scott caught her elbow to help her stay upright. The others made various sounds of protest. Kira held up her hands in acknowledgement. “I know. I’m sorry. But the memory thing was actually my mom’s idea, so it’s kind of my responsibility. We can’t keep lying to her, guys. Or, hiding the truth.”

Malia walked in and gave Stiles a sharp glance of inquiry. “Why does this room reek like fear? You can’t tell me everyone cares that much about Derek.”

Lydia gestured to the living room door. “ _Please_ can we go sit down?”

This time, they listened. Allison sat on the couch between Isaac and Scott, mostly so she could keep Kira and Lydia in her direct line of sight.

Kira took the lead. “We fought the oni, and you found out that silver arrowheads could kill them. But one of them surprised you.”

Lydia’s voice was shaking so hard that Allison wanted to hug her, but she was still angry enough to keep to her seat. “I was with the nogitsune when it happened. Do you remember it kidnapping me?” Allison shook her head. “He had me at Oak Creek. I couldn’t see you but I knew—I _knew_ —”

When Lydia clamped her mouth shut, tears glittering in her eyes, Stiles took over. “We acted like it was a carjacking gone bad. Your dad brought in his own medical examiner, I don’t even know how. He told us how to talk about it, and the sheriff handled everything personally. He took our statements so he could make them sound right.”

“‘Everything happened so fast,’” Allison whispered, and Stiles nodded, and together the pack told her about the days after her death.


	5. Bargaining with Fairy Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quest, a queen, and a kiss, in that order.

One full week passed after the oni’s blade cut Allison down. Her father held a secret closed-coffin memorial service, and forbade Gerard’s presence so that the McCall pack could come and mourn. But they were not allowed to shed their tears in peace. Instead, Kate Argent burst through the doors with a snarl on her lips and blood in her eye.

“What,” she roared, landing punch after punch on her unresisting brother’s body, “is the use of you having the codex if you refuse to read it? How can you not recognize the signs? Snow everywhere, unnatural cold! Those aren’t caused by a fox spirit!” Recovering from their shock at her appearance, Sheriff Stilinski, Scott and Isaac leaped forward to try and stop her, but Chris waved them off. She placed a kick to his stomach and sent him crashing into the nearest funeral wreath. “The Snow Queen has come to Beacon Hills, and you sit here crying over my niece’s death when you could be getting her life back!”

Chris hadn’t even made eye contact with his sister, gazing dully over her shoulder while she hit him, but at this he jumped to his feet. “No, Kate. The dead stay dead. It’s foolish to try to undo the natural order.”

Kate laughed, but there was no humor in her voice. “Nothing is _natural_ about oni piercing Allison through. Not even in our world.”

“There’s a chance she can be brought back?” Scott asked.

“No,” Chris and the sheriff said together, echoed swiftly by Melissa McCall.

Kate ignored them. “Yes. She was killed by spirits in service of another spirit, which is a violation of the natural order Chris is harping on about. Her life isn’t completely gone, it’s only frozen in a separate realm.” She pulled a book with wooden covers from her jacket and shoved it at her brother. “If you make it worth her while, the Snow Queen can bring her back!”

“The dead stay dead.” Chris’ voice was hollow, but his gaze remained steady.

Scott turned to Derek, standing next to Malia. Malia’s eyes flashed blue at Kate, and she was clearly ready to attack, but Derek seemed immobilized. “Is it true? Derek, is it _true_?”

Derek cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t be asking me that question. You should be asking, is it wise? But yes. If the Snow Queen is real—she hasn’t been seen in over a century, so I’m not convinced—it is true.”

Scott persuaded Chris to delay the burial, an easier task than it should have been because Allison’s body did not decay. He put it to a vote, one from which his mother and Sheriff Stilinski were excluded since he waited till they were working to ask. Kate sneered when Chris and Derek once again objected, but the others voted in favor of the notion. Then they found themselves in the uncomfortable position of being forced to trust Kate Argent for their information.

They found the Snow Queen on the peak of Mount Shasta, at the highest point of the Whitney glacier. The park rangers had refused to issue a summit pass to the pack, citing safety concerns due to the unusually cold weather and heavy snowfall. “No one’s been up there in months, to be honest,” they said, with oddly uncaring shrugs.

So the Beacon Hills contingent had to sneak onto the mountain and pretend they knew what they were doing. Each footstep seemed to take them farther from the base of the mountain than it should have. The cold sank into their bones and made them feel that they would die of it, but at last they made their way to her encampment. Reindeer milled around its edges.  Polar bears, large and fierce, guarded the tremendously grand tent-like structure, which Kate called a _kota_. They growled at the werewolves when they walked past the entrance. The Snow Queen rose from her throne of ice as they approached, holding out her hands in welcome.

“Kate Argent!” Kate stepped in front of the others and bowed low. “What have you brought me, _herratar_?”

“Your majesty.” Kate turned and indicated the pack. “As you see.”

“But, Kate- _herratar_ …” The crystalline planes of the Snow Queen’s face shifted into a pout. “None of these are beasts in form, but only half, like to yourself.”

“Like yourself?” Chris said under his breath, and Kate snarled at him. Derek and Scott caught their breath to see the blue of her skin, for this was the first occasion upon which she had revealed her new nature.

Continuing as if nothing of interest had occurred, Kate said, “That is not the case, your majesty, for one of those I have brought becomes a full coyote, not merely a were.”

Malia shrank back for a bare instant before she recovered with a fierce glare. Stiles grabbed her hand and said, “No.”

“Your Majesty, maybe show them an incentive?” Kate suggested.

The Snow Queen nodded. At the clap of her hands, two of the massive bears walked in. “The mirror!” she ordered. They left and returned minutes later with a cloth-covered shape held between them. Once they set it before the queen, she motioned their dismissal and pulled the cover back to reveal a mirror set in an ornate frame. Its edges were covered in ice, and it did not reflect those who stood before it.

The Snow Queen caressed the mirror. Frost spread from her fingers to draw elaborate curlicues upon the glass. “In this mirror are all things that have been, or ever will be, or that should have been. I can bring forth whatever you wish, or recall whatever you wish into this world, if you meet my price.”

“You want a were,” Scott said, despair tinging his words. “We can’t give you that. One life isn’t worth sacrificing another for.”

The Snow Queen’s eyes, unfeeling black pools, widened. “What use is a dead creature? I already have those. I would keep my were in my Great Hall, as a companion. All would see and know I alone have tamed it. I would have liked to have had a wolf, but a coyote is lovely too.” With a tap of her fingertip, Allison appeared in the mirror, walking away, deeper into the reflected world. Lydia sobbed, but Scott shouted Allison’s name. The girl in the mirror looked over her shoulder as if she had heard, her hair whipping in a wind no one else could feel. Her face was expressionless, and her eyes seemed to have been frozen over.

Chris Argent had watched all these proceedings in silence, but at this, he broke. Perhaps the possibility of his daughter’s return, offered right before his eyes, made up his mind for him. He threw himself to his knees before the queen and begged. “Forgive me, Majesty. We can’t offer one girl for another, even for my daughter. But ask anything else of me, anything at all, and I will do whatever you want, or give you whatever your heart desires.”

“What to do?” The Snow Queen ran her finger down his cheek. The skin she touched reddened with frostnip. “For the only reason I traveled all this way was because I had heard Beacon Hills was a hunter’s paradise when it came to this sort of prey. I will have my were, or you will leave me empty-handed. She’s a very lovely girl; it seems a great pity.” Her speculative gaze turned to Kira. “The fox is pretty. It’s unfortunate that she retains her humanity. All that warmth would cause a sensation in my palace.”

“Being able to transform to full animal form is rare,” Kate said. Only her fists, clenched behind her back, gave away her nerves. “To my knowledge, only one family in North America carries the ability in its blood, and the Alpha is usually the sole member of their pack to do so. But they have no Alpha now.”

“Then you have no bargaining chip.” The Snow Queen turned her back on the supplicants. “And I have no reason to stay.”

Derek spoke up. “Your Majesty.”

The queen stopped on her dais and turned to look at him. Everyone else did, too, varying degrees of surprise on their faces.

“Yes?”

“What would you think of someone—”

“Derek, _no_ ,” Chris said, but Derek went on as if he couldn’t hear.

“—who had once been an Alpha, and could be once again? The son of Talia Hale, who was the most powerful Alpha in her generation and could shift to a full wolf from the time she was young? Her only true successor?”

“But you are not an Alpha now?” The Snow Queen tilted her head. “I could do nothing with you.” Mingled relief and sadness seemed to fill her _kota_ , and then she added, “But with your blood, however… Now, that would serve me well. The magic within a once and future wolf king’s blood could be used for my purposes.”

“You can’t,” Scott said to Derek, but Derek shook his head.

“Scott. It’s a _gift_. And my mom told me to use it to protect Beacon Hills.”

“But if she’s using your blood for things that are wrong—”

Derek leaned closer to Scott, and spoke softly enough that few other ears could catch his words. “Do you really think she’s just going to leave, if she doesn’t get what she wants? Do you really think Kate will let it go, just like that? Allison was the only thing she truly loved.”

To that, Scott could muster no denial.

The Snow Queen reached into thin air and pulled forth a vial made of what looked like diamonds. “Now then. Shall we agree to be noble folk, honor-bound by our word? Or do you require a contract?”

“Any contract from Your Majesty would be redundant,” Derek replied.

She laughed with delight. “As prettily said as any courtier could wish. Very well. In return for the magic in your blood, I shall bring the Allison-who-should-have-been, the Allison-who-almost-was, out of my mirror, and return your daughter, your niece, your friend and your lover to all of you. Is it satisfactory?”

The others remained silent, looking at Derek in mute supplication, but he would not change his mind. “It is, your majesty.”

In similar fashion to the vial, she produced a lancet, also made of diamond. “Bare your arm to me, son of Fenrir.” Derek removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeve. She held the blade to his inner elbow and struck its end to pierce the skin, a little too hard. Derek winced but gave no other sign of discomfort. The blood floated from his arm straight into the vial the Snow Queen held above it with no visible means of transportation, never overflowing despite the vial’s small size. She drained him until his face turned set and white. Scott and Malia both started to look angry, but before they chose to act, the Snow Queen decided it was enough.

“Excellent,” she announced, holding the vial before her face and swirling its contents like a scientist examining a solution. “This will do extremely well. However, Argents, I will have your fealty in return for my grace.”

Chris looked to Kate. She replied for both of them. “You’ll have it, once we have Allison.”

“Very well. Now, for my part.”

Turning to the mirror once more, the Snow Queen reached to hold both sides of its frame in her hands. “Allison Argent.” Allison appeared again, this time facing outward and much closer than before. “Come out,” ordered the Snow Queen, and she reached through the glass, which became like water under her touch. Allison stepped forward into the real world with mechanical motions, her face still expressionless and her eyes still clouded over.

“Allison!” Lydia cried, and Allison turned her head to look at her, but she clearly could not see.

“Allison,” Scott whispered. His voice, she did not seem to hear.

The Snow Queen looked at the Argents in expectation. “Swear your loyalty.”

Chris took a silver bullet from his pocket. “This is the only thing that binds my oath, Majesty.”

“It will do.” The Snow Queen extended her hands.

Still holding the bullet, Chris knelt and put his own hands between hers. He spoke quickly as his skin turned red, then white. “I swear I will always remain faithful to you.”

The Snow Queen stepped back. Kate and Chris could hold back no longer; moving as one, they reached for Allison, but before they could touch her, the Snow Queen spoke.

“The contract is fulfilled.” Still holding her vial of blood like a trophy, she gave them all a brilliant smile. “My thanks to you all. _Hyvästi_.”

The wind roared around them, and the _kota_ shook, and the entire camp seemed to lift into the blizzard that raged, leaving the Beacon Hills contingent trembling and alone in its wake.

“Allison!” Chris shouted, alternately shaking her by the shoulders and embracing her. “Allison, wake up!”

The ice retreated from Allison’s eyes. For the first time, she blinked, but still she did not seem to see. The others huddled closer to her, staring hopefully.

“Allison.” Kate placed her hands on either side of her niece’s face. “Sweetie, wake up.”

Allison finally made eye contact with her aunt. And then she began to scream.

 

“You kept screaming for days,” Isaac muttered, staring at his shoes.

“Every time someone touched you, or spoke to you, or even breathed on you, it would trigger more screaming.” Lydia hugged herself and rubbed her own arms at the memory. “And you were so cold. Your body… wasn’t right. You didn’t eat, or sleep, or do anything normal except breathing. You just sat where we put you, like a doll, and didn’t move.”

Allison had gone numb halfway through their tale. Everything she heard was being filtered through a helpful veil of dissociation. She had died; now, thanks to Derek’s sacrifice, she lived. How nice. “What did you do with my body? The dead one?”

“It disappeared,” Scott said. “It was gone when we got back.”

Of course it was. _This_ was her only form. The almost-dead one. “How did you get me to stop screaming?”

Kira piped up. “We asked my mom for help. I thought someone who’s seen as much as she has might know what was going on, and it turned out I was right.”

 

When they brought her to Chris’ flat, Noshiko took one look at Allison, who sat motionless upon her bed, and sighed. “This is very bad, Kira. You should have brought me sooner, but I understand why you didn’t. Still, I’ll have to use your power, and it’ll drain you.”

“Then don’t do it,” Scott said instantly. Lydia nodded, albeit with a little more hesitation. Chris closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands.

“I’m okay,” Kira said, her jaw firming with determination. “If it’ll help, then I’m good.”

“It will help.” One hand grasping Kira’s, the other extended toward Allison, Noshiko walked closer to the bed. “But it will also hurt.” Delicate tendrils of what looked lightning wavered out from her fingertips and worked into Allison’s head. Allison gave no sign she felt anything. “To help her deal with what she is, and where she has come, we have to help her forget. When the Snow Queen brought her out, she placed all of this world’s Allison’s life force within the same body. Her brain is overwhelmed with the knowledge of what happened to her at the nogitsune’s hands, and simultaneously having the memories of two existences. So now I have to go into her mind and erase the memory of her death, and her return to life, as well as her memories of the mirror world. The Snow Queen was really clumsy in the way she chose to do this.”

Still moving slowly, Noshiko sat on the bed and ran her fingers through Allison’s hair, grown tangled and matted with neglect. Anytime anyone came close enough to try to help with it, Allison would start to scream, but Noshiko’s touch left her motionless and unafraid.

“I can take away the images that led to the trauma, but I can’t fix the emotions. That’s beyond the reach of even our combined powers, if I still had mine, Kira.” Noshiko kept one hand on the crown of Allison’s head, and reached for a brush with the other. Kira moved her own hand to her mother’s shoulder. “So it’s very important that you keep reminders of the mirror-world away from her. That’s the Snow Queen’s home, and it’s very different from Northern California, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. Don’t speak of it to her. Watch her carefully for signs that she’s beginning to remember. The brain is very resilient, so it will try to get back what it has lost. If she starts to regain the feelings from the forgotten experiences, she’ll think she’s going crazy, and doubting your sanity for long enough can be as bad as losing it altogether.” She drew the brush through Allison’s hair until it lay sleek against her head. “There. That’s better, pretty girl.”

Noshiko caressed Allison’s hair once more, and this time it was the tender gesture of a mother, not the kitsune’s powerful touch.

“Chris, look,” Lydia whispered. Chris’ face lit up. Kira peered around her mother’s shoulder to see that Allison had fallen asleep for the first time since she had exited the mirror. Noshiko lowered Allison to the mattress.

“See how she sleeps. Talk to me again if nothing changes.”

Allison slept for days. Her body remained cold and her skin remained blue with it. Chris refused to leave her bedroom. The only one who could talk him into taking a break was Derek. The sacrifice of his blood for Allison’s life had strengthened the bond between the two men, and it had turned into genuine affection.

So, when Noshiko returned upon Kira’s request, it was Derek she found by Allison’s side, sitting on a chair pulled near the headboard while Lydia rested on the foot of the bed. Lydia walked out to the kitchen to get a drink. When she came back, she peered around the door to listen without intruding.

“She’s still not conscious,” Derek said, not looking away from the sleeping girl.

“But she’s closer to it than she was.” Noshiko touched his arm, and, when he raised his gaze to meet hers, indicated the windowsill. “Look. No one’s tended them, judging by the dust, but her plants are sprouting.”

“Then why won’t she wake up?” Derek turned back to Allison, crossing his arms and frowning at her. “I’m worried that when she does, she’ll be a zombie or something.”

Lydia, still in the hall, bit her lip at hearing her own fears voiced, but Noshiko actually gave a quiet huff of laughter.

“Just because all the horror stories are true doesn’t mean that the fairy tales are false. What wakes the sleeping beauty, Mister Hale?” Derek’s only response was a blank look. “Think about it. I’m sure it’ll come to you. I can’t do anything here.”

Once she left, Lydia crossed the room to stare at Derek expectantly. He rolled his eyes. “What is it?”

“Try it. Kiss her.”

“I’m not a Prince Charming for an Argent, let alone who tried to kill me more than once.”

Lydia ignored that piece of irrelevance. “The one who wakes the sleeping beauty is the one who gives everything to free her. You bought her life with your _blood_ , Derek.” She pulled his arm insistently. He extended it and allowed her to examine the yet-unhealed wound. “And it cost you a lot. I’m not convinced we know how much, yet. There’s no better candidate than you.”

“Scott.”

She gave a sad laugh. “Scott is definitely charming, but he’s not Allison’s prince. This isn’t about how worthy you think you are. It’s about what you’ve done for her.” He shook his head in irritation. “Derek. Please.” Desperation leaked into her voice, even though she fought to keep it steady. “Just try.”

Derek gave a long-suffering sigh, but sat on the bed beside Allison’s unresponsive form. “Fine.”

Even after that, he hesitated for so long that Lydia felt she might scream, and wondered if she were about to die herself from sheer frustration. By the time he went so far as to cradle Allison’s cheek in his hand, she was ready to beat him over the head with a throw pillow.

At last, Derek bent forward and pressed his lips to Allison’s.

The effect was instantaneous. The bluish pallor fled from her skin, starting at her mouth and then retreating into invisibility. Her cheeks pinkened; her eyelashes fluttered. She made a tiny, muffled noise, but to Lydia’s waiting ears it sounded as loud as a shout. Allison’s chin tilted upward and she returned Derek’s kiss. He pulled away almost immediately, his own cheeks flushed. His gaze remained fixed on Allison’s face.

Lydia rushed to take her friend’s hand in her own. “Allison, are you awake?”

Allison opened her eyes and smiled sleepily. “Sure I am. What’s up?” She coughed and frowned, clutching her throat. “Why am I so thirsty?”

“I’ll get some water.” Derek vanished from the room.

A minute later, Chris came running through the door holding an Evian bottle. “Derek texted and said I should come back and bring water. What’s wrong? Is she all right? Is she—oh, my God.” The bottle dropped to the floor. He leaped to the bed and yanked his daughter into his arms. “Allison!”

Allison’s eyes went wide in bewilderment, but she responded to her father’s frantic embrace with a dutiful pat on his back. “Uh, Dad? Can I have that water? What’s wrong? Why is Lydia crying?” She sat back and examined Chris’ face with alarm. “Why are _you_ crying?”

Lydia swiped the tears from her cheeks and shook her head meaningfully at Chris. They had to keep up the pretense of normality for the sake of Allison’s mind. “I’m not! And your dad is just emotional, you know that.”

Allison clearly knew nothing of the sort, but she nodded. “I’m still thirsty.” After Lydia handed her the water, she drank half the bottle and lay back down. “Is it okay if I go back to sleep? Is today a school day? I forget.”

“Sure, go back to sleep,” Lydia agreed. Allison closed her eyes. Lydia waited for her breath to grow even before she burst into hysterical tears and had to be led out of the room by Kira, who had just arrived with Scott.

Scott came out a minute later, joy clear on his face, but it was tempered with concern. “She’s still cold.”

“But not _as_ cold, right?” Lydia asked.

“Right. It’s not warm as it used to be, but it’s not freezing. And her heartbeat’s sped up. Still slow, but it’s a strong pulse. I don’t hear a murmur or anything. She’s sleeping like normal now.”

“Maybe she’ll keep getting better now,” Kira said, looking from one to the other with hope shining in her eyes.

They had forty-eight hours of what passed in Beacon Hills for normalcy before they discovered Derek had been kidnapped.


	6. Orpheus Accompanied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final trial before resolution.

“So you remember what happened after that,” Scott said.

"You told me I'd been sick,” Allison replied, but it came out breathy.

Malia, who had been watching Allison out of the corner of her eye while apparently inspecting Stiles’ hair for fleas, said, “I think she’s about to lose it, you guys. Give her a second or we’ll all be picking arrows out of our chests.”

Allison could hear the distance in her own voice as she replied. “No, I’m okay.” After a long moment of silence, she added, “So it wasn’t the de-aging thing that made Derek start losing his powers.”

Lydia closed her eyes, and Stiles winced, but everyone else looked at each other in confusion. “I thought it was?” Malia said.

Allison shook her head. “The Snow Queen said—I mean, if those were her exact words—’in return for the magic in your blood.’ She wasn’t only taking his blood. She’s been draining him of magic, all this time, and now that he’s fully human, she took him to be her pet anyway.”

Lydia directed an unhappy look her way. “Those _were_ her exact words, and none of us called her on it. I didn’t even realize what she meant till much later.”

“I need to find out where she is,” Allison said.

Stiles spoke up. “Finland, supposedly. I… I researched her, after. I thought we might need to know.”

Lydia sighed. “I think she’s been waiting. Remember the reason we were able to get Derek on the new moon without missing school?”

“Snow days,” Kira answered. “I wondered, too.”

“So, I’m going to Finland.” Allison rose to her feet and offered a wobbly smile to the rest of them. “Thanks for telling me the truth. I understand why you didn’t do it before. But I have to go now.”

Lydia drove her home. Allison crumpled into tears halfway there, and Lydia cooed with concern and rubbed her back.

Chris met Allison at the door. “Lydia texted me when you were still at Scott’s house,” he explained. “Are you okay?”

Allison ran into his arms and cried on his shoulder in a way she hadn’t since she was a little girl. When she could finally string a few words together, she sobbed, “I’m so sorry I left you alone!”

“No, no, no,” Chris soothed, rubbing her back. “It wasn’t your fault. I was so proud of you. I’m still so proud. You live by your code, and you died for it. You’re amazing.”

Allison stepped back and whisked the tears out of her eyes. “I don’t have time to fall apart. I have to find Derek right now. We have to go to Finland.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “There’s no way in hell we’re going to Finland unless I’m absolutely sure he’s there, and that we can save him. We had a contract with the Snow Queen, and violating that sort of magic can end up with you dead again. Derek wouldn’t thank me for that, in case you’re wondering.”

“ _You_ had a contract,” Allison corrected him. “She assumed that because you’re the man, your oath counted for the family, but even by that stupid standard she’s wrong because Gerard is still alive, so you’re not the head in patriarchal terms. And _I’m_ the head now. You can’t make promises for me.”

With a grin, Chris pulled her back into a quick hug. “That’s my girl. I have some contacts in Finland. We’ll see what they can find out.”

 

They put out feelers, and the messages trickled in. Text messages with a brief negative. Emails with longer explanations but still no leads. Phone calls full of regret in Finnish, in English, in Swedish.

Allison tried to fight the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, but when she went to the roof and looked at her rosebushes, she saw the cane had become black.

And then one morning a raven alighted on Allison’s windowsill. She first noticed it as she was trying to concentrate on homework, but it stayed unnaturally still and stared at her for so long that she called her father.

Chris nodded when he saw the bird. “I think I know what this is.” He pushed the window open and said gravely, “Please, come in.”

The raven tiptoed around the empty vase on the sill and cocked its head at him, but did not speak. It hopped to Allison’s desk instead.

“Allison, see if he’ll talk to you. Tell him what you want to know.”

“My life is so ridiculous,” Allison said on a sigh. She sat down in the desk chair and addressed the bird. “I’m looking for information on my—on a man named Derek Hale.”

The raven eyed her, and remained silent.

Allison rose to her feet, a sudden idea striking her. “Maybe I know someone who can help.”

The raven insisted on flying rather than resting on Allison’s shoulder or arm, so she held the door of the veterinary clinic open for him. Deaton looked up from the counter and smiled as the bird fluttered onto the top of the cash register. “Allison. What brings you here?”

Allison eyed the mountain ash and wondered what would happen if she touched it. “I assume you know about Derek.”

“I do.” Deaton turned his smile on the raven. “Greetings, friend.”

She’d meant to tell the story of how the raven had come to her, but instead she blurted, “I think he might be dead.”

“Now that, I don’t believe at all,” he answered.

The tightness around her heart loosened at his assurance. “Then can you tell me how to get to the Snow Queen’s palace?”

“No. Emissaries deal in balance. Dark with light. Good with bad. Life—” He gave her a pointed look. “With death. When the pack struck its deal, it disrupted the balance.”

Allison lifted her chin in defiance. “My life was _stolen_. Murder isn’t a contributing factor to cosmic balance; it’s a disruption of what should happen. Scott and Derek and the others set things back the way they were supposed to have been.”

“And how has that worked out for you, so far?” Deaton’s voice went soft and speculative. “Do you feel balanced, Allison? Or do you feel the lingering effects of the world from which your body came?” He opened the gate and moved forward, eyeing her with keen interest. “Tell me, what do you dream, at night?”

Allison shivered, and wanted to kick herself when she saw him notice. “Last night, I dreamed of Derek,” she told him. She’d been walking through a blizzard, and Derek had appeared before her, pale and bloodless as the queen he served. When she called his name, she woke. “He’s the balance I need. Can you talk to this raven for me?”

“I can, yes.” Deaton turned to the raven. “How may I help you?”

He translated the raven’s next sounds. “He wants to hear your tale first.”

She told the entirety of the story, and at the end of it, she asked, “Have you seen him?”

The raven nodded with great seriousness, and replied through Deaton, “It may be that I have.”

Allison choked back her shock. “You have? Please—where? Where is he?”

The raven hopped closer. “I have a friend who loves to fly far and wide. She is far more curious than the average raven, and we are a curious bunch. She told me that she had flown so far north, a while ago, that she had left her sense of home behind, and only the chance passing of a reindeer herd, headed south, helped her to find her way back to me.

“While she flew in that far northern spot, unable to remember which direction was which and where the sun should shine in the sky, she came upon a great house illuminated with blue lights. When she flew close to its windows, she looked inside and saw the Snow Queen sitting upon her throne with her attendants surrounding her, and a black wolf at her feet. She realized then that she had found the Snow Queen’s country house, to which she retreats when she wants to get away from the palace. We ravens avoid the Snow Queen at all costs, you know, so of course my friend flew away as fast as she could.

“I begged her to fly south from then on, rather than north, and she agreed. But one day, not very long before today, she said, ‘I will go north again,’ and nothing I could say would dissuade her. She has not returned.”

“I’m so sorry.” Allison thought for a moment. “But—if it was only your friend who’s been there, and she couldn’t find her way to you for a long time after she was there, does that mean that she left earth? Because I thought birds know where they are on the planet all the time.”

“Not _all_ birds.” If the raven could have given a disdainful sniff, Allison felt sure it would have. “But yes, it’s true we ravens have that ability. Wherever she was, it was not on the natural earth. It was in the Snow Queen’s realm, which is why I’ve been unable to find my friend.”

“In that case, how can I go there?” Allison’s voice turned thick with the tears she’d been holding back since her brief breakdown on the night of Derek’s disappearance. “If you don’t even know how to find her?”

“I’ve come to you because I was sent by the prince and princess of my home kingdom,” the raven explained. “I serve in their court. The royal family are old friends of the Argents. They told me that a wise man lives here with whom we both should consult.”

“I suppose he means me.” Deaton stared at her for a moment, deep in thought. Apparently he reached a decision, because he said, “I can’t take you to the Snow Queen, and I can’t tell you how to find her, but if you want to badly enough, I know how you can go look.”

A few hours later, Allison walked in her front door and smiled at her father. “We need to fly to Finland.”

 

Two days later, Allison stepped off a plane in Helsinki with Chris at her side. “I still think we should just take the train to Kolari,”she said as he looked for the rental car sign.

Her father hefted his bag over his shoulder. “I don’t intend to turn you over to the reindeer any sooner than I have to. That sentence just really left my mouth, didn’t it.”

Allison laughed for what felt like the first time in forever. The sight of the raven outside the terminal cut the sound off in her throat.

The drive to Lapland seemed to fly by, paused only for a meeting with an Argent associate who provided them both with a small armory. Chris commented with approval on the Finns’ love for guns, but Allison inventoried the arrowheads and tried not to drive herself nuts with rehearsing her plans.

At last, they reached the far north. Allison wanted to set out immediately, but Chris said, “He’s waited this long. He’ll wait a little longer while you get some sleep.” She was forced to see the sense in that. Together, they secured a hotel room near the wilderness.

“I’ll be ready to go when you come back,” she promised the raven. It flew off into the gloom.

She awoke, suddenly and completely, at its caw outside. Sitting up in the bed, she looked at her father, who watched from a chair near the window.

They stared, silent, for a long moment, but Chris gave a hoarse request. “Come back to me.”

Allison knew as well as he did how futile a response would be. He didn’t really seem to expect one anyway. She rose from the bed, pulling on her heavy winter gear and slinging her quiver over her shoulder. “Remember what I said. If I don’t return, give up. I don’t want you dead because of me.”

“I still think we should have brought the others.”

Allison didn’t bother answering that. Her father knew her reasons as well as she did. “I love you, Dad. But I’m not coming back without Derek.”

When she stepped out the hotel’s front door, she saw a massive white reindeer waiting for her. The town had gone eerily silent, and the only noises were its hooves upon the pavement and the rustling of the raven’s feathers. Allison turned to the bird. “I’ll do whatever I can to bring your friend back with me.”

The raven bowed to her, wings outspread. Allison hefted herself onto the reindeer’s back and ran a rope around its neck and her back, then tied a knot at her waist. “Just in case I fall asleep,” she explained at its astonished look over its shoulder.

The reindeer leaped forward, and together they headed into the farthest north.

 

There wasn’t much for Allison to do but hold on and go over Deaton’s words obsessively as the sky darkened above her and the aurora borealis grew closer and closer.

_There is a reindeer the raven knows, which got separated from its herd and is too far south now. This reindeer and its herd pass in and out of the Snow Queen’s land freely. Only you should go, at first. The passage will be much easier for you than anybody else, because you actually come from her realm._

_So, no backup. Okay._

_The Snow Queen is a collector. If you want to take her prize, you’ll need to bring a trade of equal value. If you want to take not only her prize, but her pet, then you’ll need even more than that._

_What should I bring, then? My dad’s collected a lot of valuables, and his family has even more._

_Nothing you could find in your father’s collection could be of greater value than your own heart, Allison. It has all the power you need._

That sounded suspiciously like a lesson learned from a classroom inspirational poster rather than a druid’s words of wisdom, but it was the only help he’d offered, so she would just have to figure things out when she got there.

The reindeer’s pace never slowed, and eventually they reached a point in the land where Allison could see the northern lights descending to the ground within her field of vision. A herd of reindeer grazed on the near side of the wall of sliding colors. The reindeer she rode came to a stop and looked at her with expectation.

“This must be your family,” Allison murmured. She tried to untie the knot, but realized after a moment that her hands were too stiff. After she managed to pull a dagger from its sheath, she used it to saw through the rope instead and immediately fell to the snow-covered ground. The reindeer dashed to join its fellows. Allison staggered to her feet, trying to stomp some feeling into her limbs.

The snow wasn’t cold enough. She should have been shaking and her teeth should have been chattering. Instead, it just felt like rain.

Allison decided she wasn’t going to worry about that as long as her body seemed to be cooperating with her brain. Instead, she loosened her snowshoes from their place on her back and strapped them to her feet.

It took half an hour to reach the aurora borealis. Once she finally got within arm’s reach, she took the handle of the dagger and hit it against the shining barrier. It rebounded with a hollow sound. The blade likewise couldn’t penetrate it.

Allison heaved a sigh and leaned her forehead against the wall—and then dropped forward on her hands and knees when it gave way before her.

“Well, fine,” she muttered under her breath. Once she regained her feet, she trudged through the barrier into the Snow Queen’s lands as if she belonged there.

 

She never could be sure how long she walked. The lights never changed; the sun never rose, nor did it set.  She felt no weariness regardless, although she did wonder if she were heading north at all. Perhaps if the Snow Queen felt no wish to see her, Allison would never find what she sought.

These worries proved baseless. Eventually a palace loomed at the top of a mountain of ice before her.

The palace’s walls weren’t a structure, per se. Instead they consisted of a howling downdraft of snow that permanently fell from clouds which never moved from above the Snow Queen’s home. The doors and windows were made of wind that sliced through the snow walls and created openings that felt as if they cut Allison’s skin when she tried them. It took three attempts for her to get up the courage to walk through the main entrance in front, and once she did, she screamed with the pain of it. However, the hurt quickly faded before her irritation at the labyrinth of snow that met her eyes inside.

“I’d love to know how my powerful heart is going to get me through this one,” she said. The sound of her voice fell flat at her feet, as if sound refused to travel through the white paths before her. The sun no longer seemed to shine; instead the hall was only lit by yet more aurora borealis. She had no idea in which direction the Snow Queen’s throne room would lie, and no thoughts on what action to take. Her arrows couldn’t still the wind that blew the snow maze into shifting patterns. Derek wouldn’t hear her calls. “I should have brought a flamethrower.”

A faint cawing made her lift her eyes to the distant ceiling of the great hall. A raven circled above. Allison waved to it and called, “A raven sent me here! He was looking for his friend—are you the one?”

The bird angled down and landed in front of her, cocking its head to regard her with one eye. Its feathers were rimed with frost, and some of them looked as if they had begun to fade to white.

Allison tried again. “He said he was an attendant at a prince and princess’ court.”

The raven gave an excited exclamation and flapped her wings.

“I know the way back.” At least, she thought she did. Hopefully her markers would still be clear and the magic of this world wouldn’t cause them to move to unhelpful places. “But first, I have to find someone. Can you show me how to get to the throne room?”

The bird cawed again and took off, flying just over Allison’s head. Allison stripped her gloves and readied one of her explosive arrows. If the raven led her to a wall, she’d just shoot through it.

It took more precious time, and the snow was beginning to feel warm in a worrisome way as she finally hacked through a final snowbank with her hatchet. The sight that greeted her eyes almost made her start crying. A vast lake, completely frozen, stretched before her, reflecting the northern lights above, and in its center rose a throne made of ice, shaped like a starburst. The Snow Queen sat upon it, stroking a huge black wolf which had laid its head on her lap. Polar bears prowled back and forth in a pattern that Allison soon realized was intentional. They were guarding their queen.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to fight her way through a bunch of likely ensorcelled animals. The Snow Queen, upon seeing her, gave a brittle laugh and waved her attendants back. Allison approached with caution. The distance between the throne and her seemed to lengthen, then shorten, and suddenly she found herself standing before it without a clear memory of having arrived.

“Why have you come back to me, _herratar_?” The Snow Queen scratched idly behind her wolf’s ears. Allison strained to see any sort of recognition in its eyes, but it regarded her without interest before returning its attention to the queen. “Most who have escaped my realm would do anything to avoid a premature return.”

Allison could feel ice begin to creep over her extremities as the queen spoke, but she fought off the stab of fear at the realization. “I’ve come to reclaim Derek Hale from you.”

“Reclaim?” The Snow Queen laughed again, but this time there was an underlying note of anger to the sound. “That would indicate you had a previous claim, _herratar._ And you do not. I am your liege; what was yours is now mine.”

“You’re my father’s liege.” Allison lifted her chin. “The Argent family doesn’t allow its men to make promises for its women. I am my own woman.” The Snow Queen’s bloodless face grew visibly angry, and Allison spoke faster. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m here to demand a gift from you, Your Majesty. I propose a trade.”

“What could you have that would tempt me?” The Snow Queen’s voice remained as frigid as ever, but she leaned the slightest bit forward.

Allison pulled her knapsack forward and eased out a wooden box. Setting it before the queen, she flipped it open to reveal the glittering shards of the mirror Lydia and she had found. “I think you might have lost this?”

The Snow Queen actually lifted her eyebrows and rose to her feet. “My mirror.” She bent, and ran her fingers through the splintered glass. Her skin showed no wound from the edges. “It was stolen from me.”

“We discovered it in Beacon Hills. I hope it can be repaired.” Maybe she sounded more sincere than she felt.

“A piece of it returned to me, bearing your blood, and I knew you would come with the rest.” The Snow Queen flicked her wrist. The pieces of the mirror flew up in the air and began to rotate there, twisting and turning in kaleidoscopic fashion, each section looking for the best fit with its fellows. “You are right that you bring a great gift, _herratar._ But I think that second life is a still greater gift.”

Allison nodded. “But… then again, you didn’t really give me a second life, did you? Only the appearance of it. I still belong here, don’t I. I can feel it.”

The Snow Queen lifted her head and stared at her, arrested. “It’s true that your body—the one you in habit now—belongs here. The magic I performed in trade for Derek Hale’s blood was unstable to say the least. I intended to bring his mirror self out as well and give it the gift of full transformation, and make him an Alpha, with the blood from the land of the living. But then the mirror was stolen from me, so I needed your world’s version of him. However, I made my efforts in good faith. I said nothing of the longevity of your new form. They wanted you to live again. You have.”

“And if I return to them?”

The Snow Queen pointed. Allison was sure it hadn’t been there before, but now she saw a column of ice rising to the sky. Inside the column her body hung, suspended, her expression peaceful.

“I undid the burial preparations. They were unnecessary. Your form is as you left it. Should you choose to return, you will receive it, and its wounds, once again. I imagine you will live for about a minute, but I am very bad with time so you shouldn’t depend upon it.”

Even though Allison had expected this, had known it on some level since she heard of her death at the hands of the oni, she still felt a thrill of grief at the thought of her father being left alone once more. “Then I’d like to propose this: since I returned your mirror to you, want to escort Derek back to the world where he belongs.”

“And you?” The Snow Queen’s eyes, black as the river Styx, held no expression. “Will you remain as my knight?”

Would it be better to die, or live as a knight in the Snow Queen’s court? She would at least have the shadow of Derek to be her companion.

She must have taken too long to answer, for the queen spoke again. “I will make you a bargain in return, then: should you bring Derek Hale to the Southern Gate, and lead him through safely without once turning back or speaking to him, I will allow him to leave my kingdom. If you turn back to see him, or say a single word to reassure him, however, I will keep you both.” She caressed the wolf’s fur. It whined in response, eyes flashing red. “Your heart is great, _herratar._ Far more than your life. I will keep the former safe, here, where none but I can touch you.”

That sounded positively mythological. Allison opened her mouth to argue, and then caught her breath as revelation dawned. The Snow Queen smiled, pale lips and paler teeth. “You’ve caught on, have you? The story doesn’t change, only the players. So go, _herratar_. Do better than Orpheus. And take that annoying _korppi_ with you.”

Allison looked to the shore of the frozen lake, where the raven’s friend still waited, and back to Derek. “Can he understand me?”

“Indeed, he can. Though whether he’ll choose to hear is another matter.”

“Derek?” Allison knelt and looked into the wolf’s eyes. “Come back with me. Please.”

The wolf leaned into the Snow Queen’s leg, but it kept its attention on Allison.

What would she do if she couldn’t even get him to follow her in the first place? Allison reached for the wolf, then yanked her hand back when it bared its teeth. “Derek, _please._ The pack needs you. Beacon Hills needs you.”

The wolf gave no response.

Allison closed her eyes in frustration, trying to figure out what to do. Deaton’s words came back to her: _Your own heart, Allison. It has all the power you need._

She had never told him out loud.

“Derek, I love you.” This brought the wolf’s ears forward. Encouraged, Allison kept going, even though tears threatened her voice. “I do. I love you. I want you to come back. Please don’t stay here by yourself, without a pack. You can’t take care of yourself. Nobody really can.”

For the first time, she felt that it had truly heard her. The wolf rose to its feet, shook itself all over, and then gave her a look so perfectly _Derek_ that she laughed.

The queen, on the other hand, looked as far from amused as possible. “Turn now, before I withdraw my good grace,” she warned.

Allison spun around and fixed her eyes on the raven.

The trek was more arduous on the return, the wind howling with the Snow Queen’s rage, so furious that Allison was blown off her feet more than once. Each time she squeezed her eyes shut lest she look over her shoulder to check on Derek. The raven circled above, seemingly unperturbed by the gale.

The queen’s sense of fair play extended to keeping Allison’s trail intact, so after what felt like days later they approached the wall of aurora borealis. Just a few steps, and she could be back in her own world. But that wasn’t the point.

Allison stopped at the border. _This is as far as I go._ She looked through the shifting colors at the forest beyond. There was far less snow on the trees than there had been when she’d first passed through. How long had she been searching for Derek? Was time different in here than it was out there? The raven made a joyous noise and flew through without trouble. But the wolf made no move.

Allison clamped her mouth shut against the urge to shout at Derek to move, to go, to live a good life even if it was without her.

Long minutes dragged past. He remained still behind her. A warm, wet nose nuzzled into the palm of her hand.

_He isn’t going to leave me here._

Well, of course not. Humans and wolves ran in packs for a reason. He might be an Alpha again, but Allison knew she ruled Derek’s heart.

She’d had a good few months. She’d had a good life. And living encased in ice was no life at all. Or afterlife.

Allison stepped forward. The colors fled before her as she walked, putting up as little resistance as it had when she entered. The wolf’s paws crunched in the snow behind her. After she passed the final barrier and inhaled air that seemed positively warm by comparison, she waited a few extra seconds to be sure Derek had fully exited as well.

As soon as she spun around to check on him, she felt the cold spread outward from the center of her body.

“Allison, _no_ ,” Derek said, voice raw with pain, and then he was holding her in her arms as she looked up from where she’d fallen. “No. Why are you—what did you do?”

“Didn’t you hear?” she asked, marveling at how distant and weak her words sounded. “The Snow Queen? Our bargain…”

“I don’t remember anything before you saying you loved me.” Derek clutched her to his bare chest. “What’s happening? Why are you so cold?”

“I’m dying,” she mouthed, and tried to muster a smile. “It’s okay. I’ve done it before. It wasn’t so bad. I love you.”

The cold spread through her throat, into the base of her skull. She heard Derek shouting her name and felt a horrendous pain tearing through her side, and then her vision went dark.

 

The roses were the first sight to greet Allison’s eyes when she blinked them open. New Dawns, soft and pink, blooming enthusiastically in a crystal bud vase on her table. The scent hung heavy in her room, overpowering almost everything else. Except...

“Hey.”

Derek’s voice, in a stage whisper, loud in her ears nonetheless. She turned her head with care and gave a sleepy smile at the sight of his face on the pillow next to hers. “Hey back. Ugh, what is that _sound_?”

“Grandfather clock,” he answered without hesitation. “It’s been driving me nuts, too. Your dad wouldn’t stop it for me, but I have a feeling he’ll listen to you.”

Allison turned on her side and burrowed into his arms, pressing her face to his shoulder. He was on top of the blankets, while she was covered, but it was still nice. “You smell so good. Hey. Wait a minute. I died!” Derek burst into laughter. She sat up and scowled at him. “I did! I remember it this time! Why am I not still dead _again_? I specifically told my dad—”

“Come here,” he said, tugging at her arm with a plaintive look. She couldn’t deny that, so she snuggled back in. When she was securely in his embrace again, he rubbed her back and explained. “Do you remember our conversation, the night we fought the wendigos?”

“You mean, the night I kicked the wendigos’ asses and you passed out? Yeah, I do.”

He gave another huff of laughter and held her tighter. “What did you say you wanted Scott to do if something happened to you and you were dying?”

“I wanted him to give me the bite. But he wasn’t there, was he— _oh._ You’re an Alpha now!” Allison pulled back enough to look him in the face. “You gave me the bite.” That was why everything was so much louder, and smelled stronger.

“Are you angry?” His eyes searched her face. “I didn’t have time to make sure.”

She thought about it for a long while. Derek waited, betraying no impatience, while the clock tried to deafen her. When she was sure, she spoke. “No. I’m not. Living is good. Living with you is better. My dad not having to be alone is the best. So no. I’m not mad. I’m really freaked out about it, but you did what I wanted.” She dropped a kiss on his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ for rescuing me.” He pulled her down for another kiss, one which promised a lot more than the last, but before she could get do more than wonder how bad her breath was, he turned his face away with a sigh. “And here comes your dad. He must have heard your voice.”

Sure enough, Chris ran in through the door, followed shortly after by the entire McCall pack. Allison sat up in bed, returned their hugs and chatter, ate the food they pressed on her, and told her story at least three times from beginning to end.

They stayed until the sun set and Chris chased them all out, but Derek stayed even beyond that. Chris left to get some takeout for dinner. Allison came back from a much-needed shower to find Derek standing by her bedroom window, looking at the moon. “When will I start to feel the effects more?” she asked, crossing to stand next to him.

“Soon. Full moon’s in two days.” He laughed. “We might need all your dad’s restraints to hold you back.”

“You might.” Allison leaned against his chest and smiled. “But I’ve got you to take care of me, now. We’ll handle it together.”

Her eyes flashed yellow at her in the window’s reflection. She saw Derek’s glow red in response. His hand gripped her own, steady and sure, and they gazed into the night unafraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to rashaka for the original prompt. I know this isn't a fairy tale AU, but I hope it didn't disappoint.
> 
> The title comes from [this poem.](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem-alone/182870?iframe=true)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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